Lincoln Avenue
by Lady Jane's Muse
Summary: Previously 'Untitled'. A Bobby/OC story set after the movie.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - Hi guys, Just wanted to make it clear that this is not a new fic. It was previously 'Untitled' and, well, the title I've chosen isn't a great improvement but it'll do. To try and combat a little bit of writers block I seem to have caught I thought I would revist this fic and clean it up a bit. Nothing new is going to happen and the ending is going to stay the same but there are a few less spelling mistakes now and some of the paragraphes have been compressed. Anyway, thanks for reading!

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right address?" Mark queried, taking his attention from the I pod in front of him for the first time since he got in the car. "Looks like they've had a drive-by or something."

"It's the right address. It's just not quite how Evelyn described it." Rachel replied, hoping she didn't sound as confused as she felt. She knew that Evelyn wasn't from the best neighbourhood in Detroit but when she talked about her home she invoked visions of happy times spent in a cosy family home. Rachel had definitely not pictured the beat up house that was in front of her. Half of the windows were without panes and there was evidence of serious repair work being carried out. "Look, just stay here while I go and see if anyone's in. Maybe I wrote the wrong house number or something when I copied it from the details in the office."

"Whatever" was the half-hearted reply she got from the sullen teenager sitting in the passenger seat as he plugged his headphones back in and cranked up the volume to a dull thud.

As she stepped out of the car, the icy wind blowing down the street whipped up her clothes and hair causing her to grab her coat lapels and pull her hat further down over her red curls. It had finally stopped snowing but the temperature had continued to drop. It looked as if they were in for another hard frost and it was not the kind of weather to be loitering in the street. Grabbing a cardboard box from the back seat she made her way to the front lawn where a figure wrapped in numerous layers had appeared, busy at the sawmill with breath colouring the air almost as much as the sawdust floating around him.

"Excuse me?" She tried to shout above the whining of the power tools "I'm looking for the Mercer residence?"

Getting no reply, or any indication that she had been heard, Rachel decided that she would need to change her position. If the man in front of her couldn't hear her, she would just have to hope that he would see her before her hands started to turn blue. However, stepping into his line of sight caused more of a reaction than she was expecting.

"Jesus, lady! Didn't anyone tell you not to sneak up on people when they're working," shouted Bobby Mercer, eyes hidden behind plastic goggles but scowl firmly in place, "Scared the shit out of me - I could have cut off my fucking hand or something. This isn't a toy, you know!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you but you didn't hear when I called out. I'm looking for the Mercer residence. Would you be able to point me in the right direction?"

"This is the Mercer residence, well, what's left of it anyway. Who are you?" came the gruff reply.

"My name's Rachel Robinson. Evelyn Mercer volunteered at the drop-in centre I run. Some of her things were in the office, pictures of her family and some odds and ends. I was told that some of her sons still lived here and thought they might want them."

Rachel cast another glance at the house, wondering what could have happened the two-story in front of her, unsure that the information she had been given was right. Surely no one would be living in a house so open to the elements at this time of year. While she looked away, Bobby took his chance to give her the once over. He vaguely remembered the face and the hair from his mother's funeral but didn't think she'd gone to Jerry's house after the service with the rest of his mother's friends. If she did, they definitely hadn't been introduced. Unfortunately, the thick winter coat and scarf wrapped around her prevented any further inspection of her possible attributes.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Bobby," he replied, pulling of his plastic goggles. "I'm sorry but I don't remember Ma telling me about you."

"Well, I only knew your mother for a few months but she told me plenty about her boys. She talked about you all the time." Now that he had given his name and she could see his face properly, Rachel knew that the man before her was the eldest of the Mercer brothers even if he was somewhat different to the pictures Evelyn kept on her desk. He still had the essence of the smiling eighteen year old, standing proudly in a gleaming hockey uniform, that Evelyn had shown her but his features were a bit more worn around the edges, his eyes had lost some of their youthful shine and, while she wouldn't quite describe them as cold, they were definitely world weary. "There are some really great pictures in here and she told me the stories behind them all. I didn't have Jeremiah's address to pass them onto him so when I found out that you and your brothers had moved home I wanted to make sure you got them."

"Yeah, Ma really used to like to talk about the old days. Seemed like she remembered everything any of us ever did - good and bad. I'll never know how she kept track of all of us" he smiled sadly, a mixture of fond memories and grief clouding his expression as he took the box from her. Without looking, Bobby knew which photographs would be inside. His photo would be the one she took before he went out on the ice for his first professional hockey match, determined to get the snapshot before he got his uniform messed up from playing too rough; Jeremiah would be standing proudly in cap and gown, clutching his high school certificate with pride after graduating 4th in his class; Angel would be dressed in a tux, Sophia on his arm, on the way to the senior prom and thinking more of what they would get up to afterwards than the actual prom itself; and Jack would be strumming his guitar, on stage for the first time at an open mike night, half way through a song he wrote and dedicated to Ma, a song Bobby would give anything to hear one more time. "Thanks for bringing them over. I'm sorry I shouted at you." he said, hoping his voice didn't sound as choked with emotion as he felt.

"Your welcome," she replied, not sure what to say to someone who obviously considered themselves to be a tough man but was just as obviously suffering from the loss he felt.

Before either of them got the chance to try and fill the awkward silence that had developed the air was filled with the sound of a car horn being pounded. They both turned to her beat up, old Nissan where Mark was glaring at them through the fogged up passenger side window, and rolling his pale blue eyes in an 'are you done yet?' expression. To Bobby, the kid looked no more than fifteen although he had a lean, hard edge to him. The fading bruises and split lip certainly didn't help to give him a youthful, innocent appearance but Bobby had met kids like him before. In fact, he used to be a kid like him - saw too much and did too much far too young. Who knew what would have happened to him if Evelyn hadn't given him a home and a family to care for?

"He with you?" He asked

"Yeah," Rachel replied, offering no more details but voice filled with concern for the young boy. "I'd better go before he decides to hot-wire the car and take off. It was nice to meet you, Bobby."

As she drove down the street , she looked back at the Mercer house where Bobby had sat down on the front steps to open the box she had delivered, and she wondered what could have been. The boy sitting beside her had thankfully switched off his ipod and was now gazing out at the neighbourhood.

"Was that really the right place?" he asked, clearly confused. "Evelyn seemed like nice, old lady. Why would anyone want to shoot up her house like that?"

"I don't know, Mark. Evelyn was one of the sweetest people I've ever met. That was her eldest son I was talking too. He seemed nice too." She was just as confused as he was but hadn't wanted to quiz Bobby about what had happened. After all, she didn't know him or his brothers at all.

"Maybe I had a lucky escape," Mark offered, "There was blood on the street outside the house. If Evelyn hadn't been killed in that robbery and I'd moved in with her like she said I could, maybe I would have been shot too."

Before she got the chance to reply, his ipod had been switched back on and the earphones were firmly back in place. The rest of the journey back to her drop-in centre was spent in silence but she couldn't help thinking that if Evelyn was still here, Mark would now have a safe home. He wouldn't be the bruised and battered teenager that she wanted desperately to protect, being bounced from home to home in welfare system that didn't work.

* * *

As Bobby opened the door and stepped into Jerry's house he could just about smell the remains of a home cooked meal and immediately felt guilty, sure that he said he'd be back in time to eat with his family. He'd been staying at Jerry's place for the past few weeks while he finished up the repairs on his mother's house. He knew he would always be welcome but he couldn't help thinking that Camille must be getting sick of having him, Angel and Sophi to cook for and clean up after as well as his two young nieces.

He made his way into the dining room where he knew they would all be congregated.

"Hey Guys, I'm sorry I'm late. I kind of lost track of time" he said as he entered the room, getting a glare from Jerry and raised eyebrows from Angel.

"That's ok, Honey. There's plenty of left-overs if you want me to heat something up" said Camille, eager to keep the peace. She loved having her husbands family in their house but knew that once they started arguing it was hard stopping them. She'd already let the girls stay up past their normal bed time and the last thing she wanted was for them to be woken up at this time of night by the sound of their father and uncles shouting at each other. "You're going to wear yourself out if you keep working on the house as late as this"

"Like hell he's been at the house. I can smell the JD on him from here!" Jerry liked a drink as much as the next guy but Camille had spent hours in the kitchen and while Bobby was in their house he should have more respect. "You could have phoned or something, let us know where you were and when you'd be back. This isn't a damn hotel, you know."

"Sorry, Dad!" Bobby replied sarcastically. "If you must know, I ran into a few of the guys from the neighbourhood. Once we got talking about the old days it was kind of hard to get away."

"Jesus, Bobby! I thought you said you weren't going to get back into all that shit. Angel heard you say it too"

"Yeah," Angel said, "You said that after everything that happened, we needed to lie low, let the dust settle. You're crazy if you think the cops won't be all over your ass as soon as you even think of doing something illegal."

"I'm crazy? You're the one dating La Vida Loca! Where is that mad woman anyway? She found a new man to fuck with already?" Bobby asked. She could be the most annoying woman in the world and she had gotten Angel into a lot of trouble in the past but Bobby didn't really have anything against the girl anymore. She came through for them when they really needed it. Bobbie didn't know many people who would willingly walk into a cop shop and keep a level head when there was so much at stake. However, when it came to creating stupid arguments with his brothers, she was still an easy target.

"She's in work - and don't you go trying to change the subject," Jumped in Jerry, just as Angel was starting to raise to the bait. "I don't want you bringing any trouble to my house. I remember the guys you used to hang with. They were no good then and they're no good now. I've got a family Bobby. I don't want them getting hurt!"

"Relax, Jeremiah. I'm not going to do anything stupid, I promise," Bobby replied, hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt. Bobbie knew he would never be the kind of person to hold down a normal 9 to 5 job and with his record, he probably wouldn't be able to get one if he tried, but he was making an effort to keep on the straight and narrow. His family was the only thing that kept him sane. Losing Evelyn, and then Jack, was the hardest thing he'd ever had to deal with. He knew he was a hot-head who took chances when any normal person would back away, but maybe he was finally growing up. Maybe he was realising that when the consequences were serious, it was often the people he loved that had to pay for them.

Sensing a calm in the storm, Camille decided that this was the right time to step in. "Well Bobby, at least you made it back in time to have some dessert with us. Why don't you stop hovering in the doorway, and take a seat? Don't leave that box in the hallway through, I don't want the girls tripping over it in the morning." she said as she headed into the kitchen to grab an extra bowl.

"Almost forgot I'd brought this back with me." he said, as he took the chair next to Angel, and opened the package "Someone brought this stuff round to the house this afternoon, think she said her name was Rachel. Anyway, she said Ma had been doing some kind of volunteer work and she wanted to give this stuff back to us. Guess they needed to clear out her desk or something. Check it out, Jerry! Angel had a 'fro to be proud of, man!"

"Oh, please! Like you have any right to dis my hair. From what I remember you spent the first half of the '90s sporting a Mullet, dude!" replied Angel as his older brothers both started laughing. Reaching inside the box he grabbed the rest of the photos and started leafing through them. "Man, I remember when Ma took these. Look at Cracker Jack in this one - he was so nervous he pucked three times before he managed to make it on stage but ,once he got going, he didn't drop a chord. Ma was so proud of him"

"Hey, she was proud of all her sons. She wouldn't have kept all these pictures if she wasn't." said Camille, putting her arms round her husband to look over his shoulder at the snap shots they were passing around. In their grief, she knew the brothers were all feeling guilty for both the trouble they caused their mother while they were still living under her roof and the infrequent family reunions once they grew up and went their separate ways. "It was nice of Rachel to bring them over. Lord knows how she found the time, poor girl's rushed off her feet."

"You know her?" asked Bobby, "She said she only brought them to the house 'cause she didn't know your address. What kind of work was Ma doing anyway?" He always meant to call home more often. When he did call, his mother always wanted to fill him in on what his brothers had been up to or talk about what was going on in his life. Bobby guessed he'd just assumed that things were the same at home as they always had been. He never really contemplated the fact that Evelyn might be doing new things or meeting new people.

"There's a youth centre on Lincoln Avenue. Keeps the kids off the streets and out of trouble. Rachel runs the place and Evelyn started working there after she read an article in the local newspaper about it. She said was getting all restless with the house being empty and helping out with the kids stopped her from feeling old." Camille explained

"She had some kid with her when she came to the house. He stayed in the car but he looked like he'd had ten kinds of crap beaten out of him."

"Sounds about right!" Evelyn had told Camille about the frustrating circumstances of some of the teenagers she met at the centre. "The city council give the centre hardly any funding. Rachel's the only full time staff member and has to rely on volunteers and donations just to keep the place going but when they can't find a foster placement at short notice, they just send the kids over to her to patch up. 'Emergency placements' they call it."

"Sounds just like Ma to get involved in something like that. She always was a sucker for a lost cause" smiled Angel.

"Speak for yourself, little brother. The only lost cause in here is you!" Joked Bobby, happy that he had yet another reason to be proud of the woman who raised him.

The rest of the evening passed quickly as they tucked into Camille's chocolate cake and talked about the old days, reminding each other of the pranks they pulled and how Evelyn would always figure out who was responsible for the jokes they played on each other.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey Johnny-G, can I get a beer and a chaser?" Bobby asked as he stepped up to the bar

"Sure thing, Bobby" replied the barman as he reached for a pint glass. "Your brothers not with you tonight?"

"Nah, they're all busy. Thought I'd come down, have few drinks and watch the game." Jerry and Camille had taken the girls to visit Camille's mother and Angel was attempting to cook a romantic meal for his girlfriend. It seemed as if all he'd listened to for the past few nights was the sound of Sophia screaming at his brother about the lack of quality time they spent together. In Bobby's opinion, the girl had just been watching too much Oprah but if Angel spending a bit of time in the kitchen managed to shut her up for a while, he was happy to let them have the house to themselves for the evening. Besides, Johnny-G had just installed a large screen television at the bar and Bobby knew it would be perfect to watch the Detroit Red Wings and the New York Rangers battle it out on.

"You started running a crèche or something?" Bobby asked, indicating to the clearly underage figure sitting in the corner as he lifted his glass.

"He turned up about an hour ago, not seen him before today. The fake ID he's got was actually pretty good. You know I like to reward quality workmanship," Grinned Johnny-G, "Besides, business has been slow lately. If he's got money to spend, might as well let him do it here rather than somewhere else."

"Jeez, you're all heart."

"I don't recall hearing you complain when I let you and your brothers drink in here underage. Anyway, the kid only asked for a beer, it's not like I'm serving him the hard stuff." reasoned the older man.

Bobby couldn't really ague with him. He remembered coming to the bar for the first time when he was 16 after making a stupid bet with Angel. The bar was in a tough neighbourhood and to his young eyes all the people going into the place looked shady, if not downright dangerous, but there was no way he could let Angel win. Bobby had sauntered up to the bar trying to appear as confident and tough as possible while he asked for a shot of whisky. He'd expected to be told to get lost so he was pleasantly surprised when the barman put a brimming pint glass in front of him. It briefly crossed his mind to point out that he hadn't ordered a beer but before he could speak, Johnny-G gave him a hard stare and said 'You got balls, Kid, but if I were you I'd shut up and sit down'. Bobby had taken the advice and he'd been a regular at the bar ever since.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloomy lighting in the bar he took another look at the boy sitting in the corner. It had been about a week since Rachel had stopped by his mother's house and she hadn't stayed long but Bobby was quite sure that he was looking at the teenager who'd been with her. His split lip had healed up but he was now wearing a black eye and the bruise looked pretty fresh. After everything he'd heard about her, Bobby knew Rachel wouldn't have been the one to punch the kid but he'd defiantly been worked over by someone.

"Have you got a phone book back there, Johnny-G?" Bobby asked

"Yeah, it's around here somewhere. Who'd you want to call?" replied the barman, curious at the unusual request.

"Think I've just figured out where the kid came from. Hate to go all good Samaritan on you, but I'm about to put a dint in your profits. Can you pull me one more pint and then make a call for me?" Bobby explained what he needed Johnny-G to do while the barman got the drink ready and then made his way over to the table the teenager was occupying.

Mark had just wanted to have somewhere to sit quietly and think about the events of the past week. It was too damn cold to sit in the park and he didn't see the point in going back to Lincoln Avenue. He knew Rachel had tried but, as far as he was concerned, it was pretty obvious that she couldn't help him. This pub seemed just as good as any other. At least it was warm and the beer was helping him to relax and start thinking of what his next move should be. He didn't expect to attract the attention of a man who looked like he had more muscles than Tyson and when he saw the stranger approaching him, his first instinct was to look for the exit. Unfortunately , the man coming toward him was blocking his escape route.

"Jesus, that's one hell of a shiner you've got there kid!" said Bobby as he put the fresh drink on the table in front of the boy. "Looks like you need someone to teach you how to hit back. Either that or how to duck."

The only response he got was the tilt of the teenagers head as he turned to look up at Bobby through straggly brown hair that could do with a good cut.

"Chatty ain't ya. You got a name kid?"

"It's Mark. What do you want?" he asked, resigned to the fact that this man was not going to go away and leave him in peace.

"Well Mark, I'm Bobby Mercer" Bobby thought he saw a flash of recognition in the boy's eyes when he gave his name but he could see that Mark was making an effort to keep his expression as neutral as possible. "I don't want anything, I'm just trying to be friendly. See, I bought you a drink and everything!" Bobby continued, knowing he probable sounded as sincere as a growling pit bull.

"Sorry, Bobby but I think you wasted your money. Dudes aren't my type." replied Mark, doing his best to meet Bobby's eyes and hoping that if he could piss Bobby off, the man would leave him alone. It was only after he'd said it that he realised it was a dangerous tactic. The man standing in front of him was huge and Mark didn't want to be on the receiving end of his left hook for pissing him off too much.

"That's cute. Think you're a tough guy, do you?" said Bobby, hoping he sounded at least a little angry when what he really wanted to do was laugh. That was the kind of comment he would have expected from Angel or Jack. It looked like Mark hadn't had all of his guts and attitude beaten out of him quite yet. "The reason I bought you this drink is 'cause I want you to really enjoy it. You're going to have to savour every last drop so I'd drink it slowly if I were you. You see, Johnny -G over there is cutting off your supply, and this is the last pint you're going to get today. Now, I'm going to sit over by the bar and watch the game but I don't expect your ass to move from that seat until your drink is finished. You hear me, Mark?"

"Yeah, sure" he replied in confusion as he watched Bobby retreat to the bar. He wasn't sure exactly what he expected when Bobby Mercer came over to talk to him but he didn't expect that. They obviously knew he was too young to be drinking so why had Bobby bought him more beer? Surely, if they didn't want him in here, they would jut kick him out. Mark couldn't imagine Evelyn buying him a drink so it was strange that her son would. However, thinking back to when Evelyn had told Mark about her sons, he never imagined her eldest would be like Bobby. Evelyn Mercer was your typical, white haired little old lady who spent her time doing good deeds and generally being an asset to society. Bobby Mercer looked like a thug capable of scaring little old ladies into their graves.

Well, thought Mark, if a thug buys me a beer and tells me to drink it I guess I'd better do what he says and then get out of here as soon as possible. He reached for the glass, making sure to keep an eye on Bobby while he took a sip of the ice cold liquid.

"Did you manage to reach her?" Bobby asked Johnny-G as he reached for his own glass, careful to keep his voice down.

"Yeah, she said she'll come and get him. She'll be here in twenty" Johnny-G replied before going to serve another customer.

Bobby turned to the screen in front of him where the players were just starting to come onto the ice at the Joe Louis Arena. It wasn't long before his full attention was on the game and he was yelling at the screen about the lack of defence skills with the other hockey fans in the bar. Having done what he considered to be his good deed for the day, any further concern for the young boy sitting in the corner was temporarily forgotten.

By half time, Bobby was thoroughly disgusted with his home team and couldn't believe that they were letting the Rangers thrash them. Defence was practically non-existent and offence was pitiful, he could do a better job himself. He leant back on the oak bar and looked around the room, not wanting to pay attention to the sports commentary on the TV. It was only when he saw the empty chair in the corner and the drained glass on the table that he realised how much time had passed since his little chat with Mark.

"When did she come to get the kid?" He asked Johnny-G

"What?" answered Johnny-G distractedly, as he collected the empties, pausing when he got to Mark's table, realising the kid had disappeared. "I haven't seem anyone come in except the usual crowd. I thought you were keeping an eye on him?" Business may be slower than he liked but there was still enough warm bodies in the pub to keep him busy and baby sitting teenagers was not part of his job description.

"Great, he must have split. I thought you said she was going to be twenty minutes - it's been much longer than that." said Bobby, angry that he'd let himself get distracted but also angry that Rachel hadn't shown up. The way Camille described her, you'd think that Rachel was practicing for sainthood. Maybe she didn't care about the kids as much as everyone seemed to think.

Bobby didn't know why he was surprised by that thought. He'd spent enough time in the system before he moved in with Evelyn to know that it was only a matter of time before most social workers burned out and got so jaded that they stopped seeing the kids and started to view them as case files. He turned back to the bar and tried to calm himself, unsure why he was letting it get to him so much. After all, he didn't know Mark. The kid really wasn't his problem.

A few minutes later the door opened and a rather flustered looking Rachel paused on the threshold, scanning the room for a familiar face. With no sign of Mark anywhere, she started towards the only person she recognised, unsure whether that was the wisest thing to do but not seeing any other option. She had been curious about what had happened at Evelyn's house to cause the amount of damage she saw so she'd asked some of the volunteers and the older kids who came to the centre if they knew anything about the Mercer brothers. She was shocked to hear about the shooting which had reportedly left at least five people dead in the street, including the youngest Mercer. She was sure that most of the stories she was told about the brothers were wildly exaggerated but there were enough people giving similar versions of events for them to have at least some basis in truth. Rachel was finding it difficult to reconcile her memories of Evelyn with the seemingly unpredictable violence and chaos that her sons were supposed to be capable of.

Right now, Bobby Mercer was leaning against the bar, shoulders hunched, scowling into his drink. To say that he looked annoyed would be putting it mildly.

"Hi Bobby, I got a call to say that one of my kids was here? Have you seen Mark around, he's a skinny kid with brown hair about this tall?" she said gesturing with her hand. "He was with me when I dropped that stuff off at your house?"

"You're too late, Lady. He took off already!" shouted Bobby, eyes narrowing as he turned the petite 30 year old. "You said you'd get here ages ago! Thought you were supposed to be looking after these kids, rather than letting them get the shit beaten out of them?"

Bobby was surprised when, rather than backing away as most people who he yelled at would, Rachel flopped onto the barstool next to his.

"Damn it! I knew he shouldn't have gone back," Rachel muttered as she sat down. "How bad did he look?" She asked turning to Bobby, obviously disappointed and upset.

"He's got a few bruises but he's breathing," Bobby replied, anger momentarily tempered by her apparent concern." You would've been able to see for yourself if you'd arrived sooner. You were supposed to get here before he finished his pint"

"You gave him alcohol! Jesus, Bobby! He's only fifteen, he shouldn't be anywhere near booze at his age." Rachel said as she took in her surroundings. From the outside the bar looked slightly run down and inside, although the bar area seemed clean enough, there were more than a few shaded corners occupied by even shadier looking figures. She just hoped that wherever Mark had disappeared to, it wasn't an even less reputable place than this. "I tried to get here as soon as I could but my stupid car broke down and I didn't have a signal on my mobile. Had to walk the last 10 blocks."

Bobby watched the red head as her eyes darted around the room. She was clearly unimpressed with the bar and it's occupants. Bobby knew Johnny-G's place wasn't the classiest bar in town but, as far as he was concerned, he gotten a better education in here listening to the old guys shoot the shit than he ever did in high school. Some of the deals being made in the room weren't exactly above board, but most of the regulars were good guys who could be relied on if you needed someone to watch your back. If Mark ever turned up here again, he wouldn't be hassled. Not that Bobby knew why the kid had turned up in the first place.

"So what happened? I thought the kid was supposed to be staying with you?" He asked

"His case worker showed up three days ago. Said that his mother's rehab seemed to be going really well this time and it was time for Mark to go home" She replied, unable to keep her frustration out of her voice. She had tried to tell them that she didn't think it was such an good idea for Mark to go back. If rehab hadn't worked the first four times, she really didn't see why the fifth attempt would be any different. "Course, it's not his mother who causes the real problems - it's the drug dealing boyfriend that she keeps letting back in the house. I guess smack's a lot cheaper when your sleeping with the supplier."

"If you thought this would happen , why'd you let him go?"

"I didn't have a choice" she said, continuing only when Bobby gave her a disbelieving look, "Look Bobby, I don't have any official capacity in the welfare system. The centre was only supposed to be a six week project over the school holidays. That was three years ago! It was never designed to have kids living there. At the moment I've got a two pregnant teenagers, a nine year old who thinks it's his fault that his mother's been sectioned and a girl who's step father put her on the game at fourteen on the books. I've got 2 empty beds but there'll probably be at least 5 kids who need them by the weekend. Then there's the neighbourhood kids who just turn up to hang out after school. The city council's talking about cutting my funding again due to their stupid budget restraints and the landlord wants to sell up so we could all be evicted at the end of the month anyway. I tried to tell them that Mark should stay at least a bit longer but I wasn't exactly in a position to hold the kid hostage."

"God Rachel, that blows." Bobby had forgotten how bad the system could be and listening to her vent her frustration and anger reminded him of just how grateful he felt when Evelyn managed to get him out.

"Welcome to my world," she sighed, as she stood up. "Guess I'd better head back over there. If Mark's thinking straight, hopefully he'll be on his way there now"

"And if he's not thinking straight?"

"He'll be halfway out of town in a stolen car and I'll have to wait for the cops to pick him up," she replied, giving the impression that it wasn't the first time Mark had disappeared. "If he turns up here again, call me. Maybe you should try putting those muscle to good use and pin him down until I get here too. Oh, and Bobby, do me a favour - next time buy the kid a Pepsi or something, ok?"

"Sure," he smiled as he watched her head to the exit. "Hey, you need a ride?" he shouted as she neared the door, knowing it would be quite a hike if she had to walk all the way to Lincoln Avenue.

"Buying booze for a minor and then offering a ride when you've had a few drinks yourself?" Rachel turned as she reached for the door handle, "Not exactly smart, Bobby."

"Well, sometimes I just don't like to think," He conceded the point, "But it's going to be getting dark soon and this isn't the kind of neighbourhood you want to be walking around on your own in."

"I'll be fine, I'll grab a taxi outside. See you around, Bobby." she replied as she stepped to into the cold evening air.

Bobby turned back to the bar to ask Johnny-G for a refill only to find the older man smirking at him

"What?" he asked,

"This isn't the kind of neighbourhood.." Johnny-G replied in a high pitched imitation of Bobby, "Jeez, first the kid and now the broad. When did you become so full of concern for your fellow men? You go too 'Good Samaritan' and all the old boys in here'll think you've turned fairy!"

"Yeah, well go fuck yourself, Johnny-G and when you've finished put another pint in here for me!" Bobby replied, pushing his glass towards the pumps and falling back into the easy, if somewhat colourful, banter of the regulars at the bar.


	3. Chapter 3

They had been back in the old house for three days now and Bobby was starting to feel restless. As soon as the house had been made watertight and the plaster had dried inside, Bobby had packed his bags and told a relieved Camille that her family home was going to go back to it's normal tranquillity. Jerry had sounded genuine when he told Bobby that there was no rush and they were all welcome to stay until the rest of the decorating had been finished but, deep down, Bobby knew that he was relieved as well. Despite the number of years that had passed since they supposedly grew up, the bickering between the remaining three Mercer brothers was just as constant and loud as it had been when they were teenagers. The close quarters were not helping the situation and Danielle and Amelia had picked up some choice phrases that hadn't gone down well when repeated in school.

Now that all the heavy work had been done and it was just the cosmetic stuff that needed to be finished, Bobby's enthusiasm was starting to wane. After the gun fight, they had pretty much gutted every room of the house. After all, there was no point trying to paint over bullet holes. He supposed that most people would view the rooms as a blank canvas but this was the first real home he had ever known. When he closed his eyes he could remember every detail of how the rooms used to be - the pictures hanging on the walls, the way the furniture was laid out , even the ugly ceramic angels that Evelyn found adorable and dotted around the house. Part of him just wanted to put it all back together again as if nothing had happened. That part of him was definitely not feeling enthusiastic about wall paper patterns and colour charts. Unfortunately, since they had moved back in La Vida Loca had declared that as she was the only female in the house, and therefore the only one with any taste, she was going to take it upon herself to be project co-ordinator of interior design.

"Bobby! You're not even looking," Sophia shouted, desperate to get his attention as she held the samples next the wall, "Which is better? Azure Blue or Artic Blue? Angel thinks Artic Blue but I'm not sure. Well, what do you think?"

"What does it matter!" he shouted back, "It's practically the same fucking colour!"

"Baby, don't listen to him. You can have any colour you want," said Angel, not really caring either way. He agreed with Bobby - it was practically the same colour.

"You're not helping, Angel. I don't know what colour I want!" She replied turning to her boyfriend, "If I don't know what colour I want, how can I choose curtains? You tell me that? Well, I'm waiting?"

If Bobby hadn't spent the last three days listening to the same inane questions, he might have started feeling sorry for his little brother. As it was, he was just grateful that she wasn't looking to him for an answer. If she tried to make him form an opinion about soft furnishing one more time, Bobby thought that he might need to punch something. He had no idea why Angel had so much trouble staying away from her. The only explanation was that the sex must be pretty good. Hell, it would have to be bloody mind blowing for me to put up with this shit, thought Bobby as he headed for the door, desperate for some fresh air.

On the drive over to Lincoln Avenue, Bobby was sure that he was doing the right thing. Camille had helped him and his brothers go through Evelyn's and Jack's belongings, separating the 'precious heirlooms' from the ordinary stuff that could be put to good use elsewhere and the items damaged beyond repair. Jeremiah had taken most of Evelyn's clothes, books and records to the local charity store and giving them away had seemed like something she would have approved of.

When it came to Jack's belongings, Bobby had packed up the car almost week ago and had been driving around with it all since. Considering that when Jack first arrived at the Mercer household he had only what he was wearing, he had certainly managed to collect a lot of stuff. The age gap between them and their different tastes meant that there was a lot of things they hadn't exactly agreed on. For Bobby, Jack's taste in music and clothes had definitely left a lot to be desired. However, some of it was just so intrinsically 'Jack' that Bobby was having a hard time letting it all go. He knew it couldn't just stay in the car for ever, reminding him that he'd rather be travelling around with Jack perched on the passenger seat than a pile of old band T-Shirts every time he went for a drive. He knew that he would never be able to get rid of it all in one go but some of this stuff needed to be used. If Jack knew that his guitar was just sitting in the corner collecting dust, he would have a fit.

When Bobby pulled up outside the centre, the front of the building was pretty much what he expected of the run down post-industrial area but when he pushed open the large double doors of the converted warehouse and entered the main hallway, the bright lighting and the conflicting noises coming out of the various doorways made him pause. Bobby didn't think he had seen so many kids in one place since he was in high school. With no adults in sight and no signs conveniently pointing the way to the office, he made his way over to the nearest teenager.

"Hey, I'm looking for Rachel. She about anywhere?" he asked

"Down the corridor, 3rd door on the right," the tall African-American girl answered, hardly glancing in Bobby's direction as she proceed to apply purple spray paint to the wall in a sweeping arc.

"She know you doin' that?" he asked.

"She knows," the girl replied, pausing only to put her earphones in and pick up another can.

Realising that he was going to get no further information and feeling that it wasn't really his place to tell the girl to stop, he started to move down the corridor. The second door he came to opened up on a games room containing four pool tables and the view it contained caused Bobby to pause for a second time. Mark, the teenager that Bobby had met in Johnny-G's bar, was leaning over the nearest pool table, cue in hand, lining up what could possibly be the winning shot. As Bobby paused, Mark's focus changed. As he raised his head their eyes locked and the teenager's hand jerked in surprise causing his shot to go wide. Bobby, couldn't help smirking as the kid straightened up, eyes still on the older man, body tense as if he hadn't quite made up his made whether the situation called for a flight or fight response. The stare was only broken when the Asian boy Mark was playing against potted the black ball and Bobby took that as his queue to keep on moving.

When he found the office, the door was already open. Stepping inside, he took in the photographs that covered nearly every inch of the far wall and the discarded toys, coats and scarves that were draped over the various chairs. If it wasn't for the three large filing cabinets wedged into the corner, it wouldn't look like an office at all.

"Hi Bobby," Rachel smiled as he entered the room, "What brings you down here?"

"We've been sorting through some things at home. Thought you might be able to use some of this stuff." He replied, not wanting to elaborate further, as he put the box of Jack's hockey gear on the table and leaned his guitar against the nearest chair.

"Wow," she said, surprising him as she reached for the instrument. Her hands gripped the neck confidently and he expected to hear a clear note when she strummed the instrument. After a couple of seconds it was clear that she knew as much about music as he did because the noise it produced definitely wasn't a recognisable chord. "I know an eleven year old who's going to be the happiest kid on earth when he sees this." She continued, seemingly oblivious to her lack of skill. She knew what had happened to Bobby's brother and realised that giving away cherished possessions, like this well played guitar obviously was, was one of the hardest things families had to do in order to start moving on and coming to term with their loss. This type of donation would always be worth ten times as much as the cheques written by rich business men who hardly stayed in the building long enough for the ink to dry. "Thanks, Bobby. I really appreciate you bringing this stuff over. I'm sure we'll find a good use for everything."

"You welcome" Bobby replied, realising that it was the first time he had seen her smile. For a brief second, the stress and worry seemed to lift from her eyes making her appear young and carefree and Bobby found himself accepting the offered cup of coffee without thinking.

"So what do you think of our organised chaos?" she asked handing him a steaming mug

"You sure you don't mean chaotic chaos? Do you know there's a girl spraying graffiti in the hall?"

"That'll be Layla, our resident artist," she laughed as he looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Seriously, her designs are really good. If I let her paint in here, it means she isn't out on the street tagging everything that doesn't move. Plus it'll look wicked when it's finished."

"Yeah, I'm sure" he said, unconvinced. To him, graffiti was just graffiti. "I see Mark's back. You managed to track him down?" he asked, changing the subject, wondering when he started to get so middle-aged.

"He turned up last night," she replied, brow creasing into a frown as she turned serious again. "Kid's been gone five days, just walked through the door like nothing had happened and asked if he could crash. Haven't got a clue where he's been and when I asked him he wouldn't say."

"Want me to see if I can make him talk?" Bobby offered. He knew the kid was scared of him, even if he tried not to show it.

"Thanks, but I think he'll come round eventually if I nag him enough," she replied, still unsure of the man in front of her. He seemed nice enough, like his heart was in the right place but the dangerous glint in his eye, and the reputation that followed him, made her wonder what 'making him talk' would involve.

Any further conversation on the matter was halted when a young twenty-something with short blond hair and grungy clothing stopped in the doorway.

"Hey Rach, Five-o just pulled up. Look's like detective Jefferson's car." Emily smiled, "Think he's here on business or do you think he came to see you for a booty-call?" Emily expected Rachel to throw the nearest cushion at her for a comment like that. They had both spent many a night helping each other choose the perfect outfit for a night on the town. Unfortunately, they had spent about an equal number of nights berating men while sharing a tub of ice-cream after their latest dating disaster. What Emily didn't expect was Rachel's eyes to go wide and dart over to the opposite wall. It was only when she stepped into the room that she realised Bobby was standing the other side of the heavy oak door. A bit old for my tastes, she thought, but the bad boy image he's got working for him makes him look fine. "Sorry Rachel, just wanted to give you a heads up. Didn't realise you already had a booty-call!" She added, swiftly retreating to a safe distance and making her way back towards the games room.

"That was Emily. Nice girl but rarely engages brain before speaking," Rachel said, hoping her cheeks weren't starting to pink up.

Bobby didn't know what to say so he just smiled. It had been a long time since anyone had referred to him as a booty call, even if it was just was a girl who looked like she should still be in college and was clearly only trying to get a rise out of her friend.

"Guess I'd better go see what he wants. Take a seat and finish your coffee, I'll be back in a minute." she said, heading out of the door and leaving him in the empty office.

It was no secret that Bobby and the long arm of the law did not get along. The way that he grew up meant that he had a hard time trusting or respecting any traditional authority figures and he knew that a lot of the kids who came to the centre would share his opinion. He hadn't really given any thought to Rachel's personal life - Hell, this was only the third time he'd met the girl and so far none of their conversations had lasted more than fifteen minutes - but he was surprised that she would be dating a cop. Surely there would be a conflict of interest if she was as much on the kids' side as she seemed to be and why was he so surprised to find out that she had a boyfriend anyway? It wasn't like she was his type. He hadn't come over here to do anything other than hand in some donations and he wouldn't have even done that if Camille hadn't suggested it to him.

Well, maybe I'm just curious he reasoned and, rather than taking a seat on one of the battered old sofas as she had suggested, he decided to say where he was, leaning against the wall next to the open door. If he happened to hear any private conversations going on in the hallway, it wasn't as if he was deliberately listening in, was it?

Rachel left the office just as the detective stepped out of the games room and she could tell by the frown that he was not a happy man. They had first met three months ago when he came to the centre to give a talk on gun violence, promoting the weapons amnesty that the local precinct had started. It was a cause she was one hundred percent behind. As far as she was concerned, guns only resulted in pain and misery and the less of them there were on the streets the better. She also liked the fact that the police presence in the building was for something positive rather than the result of one of her kids doing something they shouldn't have. Of course his tall, dark, handsome appearance also helped and as he paced down the corridor towards her, Rachel had to remind herself that, over a tub of Ben and Jerry's, she had vowed to never get involved with him again.

"Hi Chris, what brings you down here?" she asked, knowing she didn't sound half as icy as she intended to.

"Hey Rachel, I'm sorry it's been so long since I was last here but you know how it is," he smiled, turning on the charm. "Official business, I'm afraid. Need to speak with a kid called Mark Webster. His social worker told me he was living here but the guys playing pool say they haven't seen him. You know where he is?"

"He is living here," she admitted, "but I don't know where he is right now. He might have gone to the ice rink or maybe the basketball courts. Is he in some kind of trouble?" Mark had refused to give her any details as to what happened to cause him to run away from his mother's house or where he had been during the five days that he was AWOL. She doubted that he would have been able to survive on his own with no money and for that amount of time without breaking at least a few laws but, rather than the armed escort that she'd expected, when he did turn up he was alone.

"Not as far as I know," Detective Christopher Jefferson answered, " I just need to ask him a few questions. We think he can help us with an ongoing investigation. Look, I don't want to bother you, I know how busy you get over here, so I'll just check out the rooms upstairs and if he's not here I'll try again tomorrow."

"Sorry, but I can't let you do that," She said, stepping to the side and blocking his path to the staircase.

"Come on Rachel, can't you help me out here? I thought we were friends."

"Friends? Last time I saw you, you said you'd call me but you didn't. That wasn't too friendly, Chris." she replied, crossing her arms defiantly. Even if he had treated her right, she wouldn't have let him up the stairs, not on official police business anyway. The ground floor was open to the public but upstairs was most definitely private. As well as containing her own apartment, it contained the rooms used for her 'emergency placements' and like any private residence, unless given an invitation, the cops would need a warrant or just cause to enter. "When he comes home, I'll let him know you were here."

"Rachel, I know I should have called you and I did intend to but things have been mad in work recently. I've been putting in a lot of extra hours and my entire social life has pretty much disappeared. I'm sorry I didn't call you but it's really important that I speak with him. He's a potential witness," he tried to explain, knowing that it was a losing battle. When it came to the teenagers who hung out here, she was fiercely loyal and protective. It didn't matter what they did, she always thought the best of them and, even when confronted with overwhelming evidence to the contrary, she would take their side. He was about to give up when he saw movement in the shadows of the office. "Is he in there? I really do need to speak to him."

Before she had the chance to deny that Mark was is in the office, he moved through the open doorway. When he entered the room he expected to see a skinny teenager. He did not expect to come face to face with Bobby Mercer. There was a lot of bullshit and rumours flying around the station about this particular person. While he could believe some of the tales being spread around, Jefferson couldn't quite believe that the brawny man in front of him had the brains to pull it all off without landing his ass in jail but so far they hadn't been able to put together enough evidence for any charges to be brought against him or his brothers. Mind you, spring had yet to come and the melting ice might reveal more than expected.

"Well, your's is a face I've not seen for a while," Bobby commented, trying to look as relaxed and at ease as possible "Last time I saw you , you were still in uniform. Guess you must be racing up that career ladder."

"Yeah, well last time I saw you, I was sending you down for a two year stretch." Jefferson replied, "So long ago I can't remember exactly why. Was it for breaking and entering, arson or GBH?"

"Probably one of those," he remembered the day exactly but did not want to give Jefferson the satisfaction of knowing it still bothered him.

Rachel had always thought that the office was a spacious room but the rise in testosterone levels had the effect of making the walls close in. The men seemed to be almost polar opposites. One was a tall, neatly groomed, defender of the law while the other was a stocky ex-con who looked like he hadn't shaved for at least a few days. It was clear that what ever had happened between them, they both still held some kind of grudge and the glares they were giving each other immediately brought the phrase 'if looks could kill' to her mind.

"As you can see, Mark isn't here," she said, breaking the stony silence that had developed. "Like I said, when he comes home I'll let him know that you need to speak to him."

The detective knew that he would get no more information on the teenager's whereabouts from Rachel and decided that the best course of action was to leave the centre and follow up on some leads he had for the case. He would just have to wait for the kid to show up but he was confident that he would find out exactly what Mark had seen eventually.

As soon as he left the office and headed out of the building, Emily came back in.

"So? What did he want?" she asked, hoping that if it was a personal visit, Rachel would fill her in straight away despite the presence of the other male visitor in the room. "If he asked you out again, I hope you said no, girl!"

"He was here on police business," Rachel replied, sometimes she could throttle the young blond, "He wanted to speak with Mark, said he's not in trouble but he might be a witness"

"Well, maybe Mark thinks that he could be in some kind of trouble. As soon as Detective Jefferson's name was mentioned, Mark and about five other guys left very quickly via the fire exit. Games room is practically empty now."

"Great," Rachel sighed, "God knows when he'll decide to come back this time"

"Sounds like you need to tie that kid down or something," Bobby said, draining the last of his coffee. In a way, Mark reminded Bobby of himself. Before moving in with Evelyn, he was always getting into trouble for disappearing but at the time he felt like he had good reason to. Sometimes sleeping rough was a better option than staying in the awful foster homes they gave him. However, Bobby had never disappeared for as long as five days in a row when he was Mark's age. He knew how hard it could be out on the streets and could imagine all to well the kinds of stuff that Mark might be doing to survive. It just didn't make sense that the kid would run away again when he had somewhere safe and warm to stay. "Guess I'd better let you get back to work. Thanks for the coffee"

"No problem, Bobby. Thank you for the donations" Rachel replied, adding "If you're in the neighbourhood again, feel free to come on in."

"I just might take you up on that," he smiled as he left the room. The hallway was significantly quieter than it had been when he entered the building half an hour before and Bobby wondered whether a visit from the police always had the same effect.

On the drive home Bobby found himself slowing slightly whenever he passed a group of teenagers in order to see whether Mark was among them. He knew that when he arrived home, Sofia would still be playing 'Interior Designer' and tried to convince himself that he wasn't really concerned for the boy. If he saw Mark, he would have to stop and take him back to the Centre but he wouldn't be doing it out of the goodness of his heart - it would just be a way of delaying the inevitable barrage of stupid questions about colour charts. Unfortunately, Bobby found himself pulling up to the curb outside his house all to soon and there had been no sign of Mark for the entire journey.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mark had been sitting on the same bench in the skate park for almost two hours, trying to ignore the icy feeling that was starting to seep into all of his limbs. It wouldn't be so bad if he had some music to listen to but the last time he had seen his ipod it was lying in about ten pieces on the kitchen floor in his mother's house and he would probably have to wait until the summer before some tourist was stupid enough to leave their belongings unattended in the park to replace it. He had his skateboard with him and had toyed with the idea of practicing a few tricks to warm himself up but there was too much snow and ice on the ground for the wheels to roll properly. As the light began to dim, fresh flakes of snow began to settle around him and he realised he would need to make a decision soon. If he just carried on sitting here he would get hypothermia or something. Getting up, he headed towards the park gates leaving a trail of footprints behind him.

When he had left the youth centre on Lincoln Avenue earlier that evening he hadn't been too worried. After all, a few of the guys had left at the same time and they had all headed down here, kidding around just as they had in the pool room and generally having fun. They all had their own reasons for wanting to leave the centre but none of them felt the need to share. The main difference between him and those other guys was that they all had homes to go to and, slowly but surely, they had all gone off in their separate directions. He knew their lives weren't perfect but right now he'd love to swap places with any one of them.

If he could choose a place to go, he knew he would choose to go to Lauren's house, but not to swap places with her. He knew he'd want her right there with him. For a few nights before he had gone back to Rachel's, he had stayed with Lauren, sneaking in after her mother went to work the nightshift at the hospital and climbing out of the window again before her mother got home. For a few hours they got to act as if it was their house and they were the only two people in the world that mattered. He had actually began to relax and forget about everything that had happened. Unfortunately, her mother was now back on the day shift and there was no way she would let Mark through the front door, let alone into her daughter's bedroom. According to Lauren's mother, Mark was most definitely a bad influence.

Someone had once tried to explain the difference between immorality and amorality to Mark. At the time he was just confused by it but the more he thought about it, the more he thought it described the difference between how people viewed the way he lived his life and the way he saw it through his own eyes. He never set out intending to cause trouble but sometimes shit just happened and he had to deal with it the best way he could. Life had never done him any favours so what did it matter if he took advantage of the few good things that came his way. He had tried to explain his outlook to Lauren once but he couldn't get the words right so she had just laughed, thinking that he'd smoked too much and gone off on a 'deep shit' vibe.

As he left the park by the tall wrought iron gates, he paused. Turning right would take him back in the direction of Lincoln avenue, while left would take him who knew where. Making up his mind, he turned left and adjusting the straps on his beat up old backpack before stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. He realised that he was causing Rachel to worry, adding to her many layers of stress. He knew that she cared about him, wanted the best for him and would generally be there for him whenever he asked. He didn't want to hurt her or make her think that he was ungrateful for everything she had done but things were getting far too complicated and he didn't want to involve her anymore than she was already.

Last night he had only gone back to the centre because he was hungry and cold and couldn't think of anywhere else where he was guaranteed a decent meal and a warm bed with no hassle from anyone. Of course, Rachel had questioned him on his whereabouts but he hadn't answered. He knew it wasn't fair but she had left him alone eventually - she was too worried that if she pushed him too hard he would do another disappearing act. Looks like she was right, he thought as he turned into the alley between two empty warehouses.

It had been a couple of weeks since Jefferson had dropped by and, if he remembered rightly, the last time he heard his name being mentioned was when Rachel and Emily were swearing to stay away from men. He hadn't expected the detective to show up again but when he did, Mark made sure he didn't stick around long enough to be seen. He didn't know whether Jefferson was there on business or not, but he didn't want to find out. If it was business, he wouldn't be scared of pushing Mark too hard. In fact Mark knew he wouldn't stop pushing until he had heard everything Mark had to tell and then some. It was possible that he wasn't at the centre on police business and that he was there because Rachel had forgiven whatever bad deed he had done. However, if that was the case Mark didn't really want to end up sitting opposite him at the breakfast table. It would just be too weird.

He wondered whether Bobby Mercer had still been in the office with Rachel when Jefferson arrived. He didn't really know Bobby. If anything, the man was a mystery to him, but he was guessing that Bobby and Detective Jefferson would not be fans of each other. In fact, he couldn't imagine any cop being a fan of the Michigan Mauler. On the one hand, Bobby seemed like on ok guy. He had bought Mark a drink for no apparent reason and when he came over to the centre that afternoon, it was obvious that he was dropping off some donations. On the other hand, he was crazy. Mark knew that Rachel had been asking some questions about the Mercer family, he had also asked some questions of his own, and she thought that the stories she heard were too wild to be true. He didn't like to point out to her that the versions she received were watered down compared to what he heard. His thoughts wandered back to the breakfast table at the centre again and he wondered what would be worse - sitting opposite Chris Jefferson or sitting opposite Bobby Mercer?

Not that it really mattered- it wasn't as if he was going to be there for breakfast anyway, he thought as he climbed up the metal staircase attached to the side of one of the buildings. When he reached the broken window, it was just big enough for him to climb in. The building smelled of damp and the scratching noises coming from the corner indicated that it was already inhabited by at least a few rats but at least it was sheltered. He was sure that he would be able to find a quiet corner of the building to get a few hours sleep before he had to start worrying about what he was going to do tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hurry up and get your ass down here, Angel!" Bobby shouted from the bottom of the stairs, eager to get to the ice rink. "Damn ice will be melted by the time we get there if you stay in front of that mirror much longer!"

"Jesus Bobby, do you have to shout so loud?" asked Jeremiah as he turned up the volume on the TV to watch the news, "You know hollering at pretty-boy up there won't speed him up." Some things never changed and the scene playing out in the Mercer house had been repeated hundreds of times over the years. Admittedly, Jeremiah might have been shouting along with Bobby when he was younger but now that he had grown up a bit, he didn't mind waiting. It gave him a chance to catch up on current affairs.

As the news reporter ran through the day's headlines, Jerry wondered what he and Camille were thinking when they brought their daughters into the world. He loved his girls and wouldn't change his family for anything but the city just seemed to get worse everyday. He had only been watching the news for a few minutes but there had already been reports of a bank robbery where two hostages had been killed, a missing girl's body found in a dumpster and a gang shooting which had left three teenagers in critical condition. Part of him hoped that his business would really start to take off soon so he could move his family further away from the troubled areas of the inner city but the more hopeful part of him wanted to be able to put his profits back into those same areas, helping to regenerate them and relieve some of the poverty that people were forced to live with. Besides, if the day's news was anything to go by, the grass wasn't always greener on the other side. The missing girl had been the daughter of a wealthy congressman from Grosse Point but all the money in the world hadn't done her any good. Jerry switched off the TV when he heard Angels footsteps at the top of the stairs, realising that he should just be grateful it wasn't one of his brothers causing the headlines for a change.

Angel was still adjusting his clothes as he came down the stairs causing Bobby to ask "You done now beautiful, or do you still need to touch up your makeup before we can leave?"

"You're just jealous 'cause you're never going to look this good," Angel replied, adding "There's a reason why I get all the girls, you know!"

"If 'by all the girls' you mean La Vida Loca, you can keep her, man. Besides, you ain't got no other girls. You even look at another girl and La Vida Loca will beat you down! Pussy whipped is what you are, Angel."

"Guys, can we just get going please?" asked Jerry before things started to get too out of hand, sure that his girls were already capable of having more mature conversations than his brothers ever would be.

"Alright, but I'd better see some quick sticks and tight passing out there because there's no way we're losing to these guys," Bobby replied, grabbing his skates and heading out the door. If he and his brothers lost to the regulars at Jonny-G's place, he'd never live it down and be able to have a drink there in peace again.

An hour later the only person on the ice still having fun was Bobby. Everyone else was battered and bruised and feeling far too old to be chasing a puck around. Any pretence of following the actual rules had been given up a long time ago and even the Michigan Mauler had started to lose count of the points scored. It seemed as if the only thing either team would win was the world record for most fouls. When one of the players from the other team took a tumble and declared they were too injured to go on, nearly everyone was relieved. Jeremiah didn't know if the injury was a fake, quite frankly he didn't care, but Bobby seemed convinced that they had bailed out because they couldn't hack the pace. He was still hurling abuse and promising that there would be a rematch as he skated to the edge of the rink.

It was only as he stepped off the ice that he realised their game had had an audience. Rachel was sitting on the nearest bench, gloved hands clutching a cup of hot chocolate, wrapped up in the same winter coat and blue woolly hat that she had been wearing the first time they met.

"Hey, didn't think you'd be a hockey fan?" he said, taking a seat next to her to unlace his skates.

"Me either. Looked like fun. Very dangerous fun. Is he going to be okay?" She asked, gesturing over to the now limping figure from the other team.

"I think he'll make it," Bobbie smiled, "These are my brothers, Jeremiah and Angel." As they made their introductions, Bobby tried to ignore the look Angel gave Rachel, and the smile he got in return. Bobby had never been jealous of his younger brother but Angel was right when he said there was a reason why he got all the girls. The boy definitely had a way with women and had always been able to turn on the charm. It was one of the reasons why his relationship with Sophia had always been so turbulent. Well, that and the fact that they both seemed happiest when they'd finished shouting at each other and got to the making up part of an argument.

"So what brings you down here anyway? Isn't it a bit cold to be sitting the park?" asked Jerry.

"It's my morning off so I thought I'd come and get a bit of fresh air and see if I could track down my favourite juvenile delinquent," She explained, "So far, no sign of Mark and I think I'm getting frost bite. Hence the hot chocolate."

"Shit, the kid didn't come back last night?" Bobby asked

"Not yet," she replied. "I was hoping that he'd be in the skate park. None of his friends seem to know where he is, or if they do they're not talking, and I'm running out of ideas. Chris Jefferson was back at the centre this morning again, asking if I knew where he was too." It was impossible for her to miss the pointed look that the younger Mercers gave their older brother at the mention of the detective's name. "What? Guys, am I missing something? Bobby, it was obvious that you know each other. Is there something about Chris that I need to know?"

"Do you mean Detective Christopher Jefferson?" Jeremiah asked, getting the confirmation he needed as she nodded the affirmative. "And he was at the drop-in centre yesterday at the same time as Bobby?"

"Yeah, he stopped by for a few minutes."

"I hope you punched that fucker, Bobby!" said Angel, surprising Rachel as his open brown eyes narrowed.

"Tell me you didn't do anything stupid, "Jeremiah pleaded, knowing how much of a hothead his brother could be. Punching a police officer would be bad enough but he wouldn't put it past Bobby to have pulled his gun out.

"Don't worry, Jerry. Nothing happened," Bobby replied, his tone of voice and the look in his eyes telling his brothers to drop the conversation.

"Bobby, if there's something wrong I need to know." Forgetting to call her back hadn't been Chris's best move but it wasn't as if she hadn't been slighted by a man before. He might not be her most favourite person at the moment but he had seemed like a mostly decent guy. When it came to the kids at the centre he had really seemed to take an interest, as if he genuinely wanted to help them. If he wasn't on the level, finding Mark first would be even more important.

"Look Rachel, it's a long story. " Bobby sighed, not wanting to rake over the past, "You don't need to worry though. He's basically a good cop. Whatever reason he has to be looking for Mark, he'll make sure the kid's ok when he does find him. Trust me, I know lot cops who're on the take, but he isn't one of them."

She didn't like the fact that she wasn't getting the full story. She had the feeling that if she could sit Bobby down on his own with a few beers that she might get the rest of the history from him but it was obvious that he wasn't going to discuss the matter any further now. She could tell that Angel didn't agree with the description Bobby gave of Chris but he hadn't uttered a word to contradict him. Jeremiah hadn't given anything away, either. He had just kept the relived expression on his face from learning that Bobby and Chris hadn't come to blows.

She left the boys to pack up their Hockey gear and headed back home, making sure to keep an eye out for Mark as she walked back. Her fourth encounter with the eldest Mercer brother had done nothing to clarify what she thought of him. The only thing she had gained from watching him play hockey was a few interesting insults to add to her vocabulary. She had never met someone who she hadn't managed to figure out within ten minutes of meeting before and she had always thought of herself as a good judge of character. Not only did Bobby Mercer confuse the hell out of her, he was also making her doubt her own judgement of other people. If she had a magic wand she would just summon Evelyn back to the Office where they could discuss the past few day's events over fresh coffee and cream cakes. If she could do that, maybe she would finally begin to understand exactly what was going on. Unfortunately, she was going to have to try to cope on her own until she could force a decent explanation out of someone.

As soon as Rachel was out of earshot, Angel rounded on his big brother, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "Why the hell did you tell her not to worry about him? 'Basically a good cop', yeah right!"

"Just drop it, Angel." Jeremiah said, aware that they were in a very public place and it was not the time to be shouting about family history.

"No I will not drop it, Jerry! A 'good cop' does not put someone away for two years for something they know damn well they weren't guilty of."

"Will you shut your god-damn mouth, Angel!" Bobby said, clenched jaw and tone of voice telling his brother's just how close he was to losing his temper. "I owed him. He didn't have to give me that deal. It was my choice and you know it was better than the alternative. Shit, man, I thought all this crap was over and done with."

_Flashback_

"_Hey Johnny-G, can I get a beer and a chaser?" Bobby asked as he stepped up to the bar_

"_Sure thing, Bobby" replied the barman as he reached for a pint glass. "Your brothers not with you tonight?"_

"_Nah, they're all busy. Jerry and Angel are on a double date, if you can believe that shit, and I managed to convince Jack to keep his underage ass at home for a change."_

_As Johnny-G handed Bobby his drink another man leant on the bar next to him and the last thing Bobby expected him to say was "I'll have the same Johnny-G. Guess this round's on me, Bobby"_

_Christopher Jefferson was a well known local beat cop but Bobby had known him since they were in high school. They had been the typical rival jocks, playing on opposing hockey teams but trying to lay the same cheerleaders. At one stage they had both been vying for the same spot in the league, coaches and scouts playing close attention to every move they made on the ice. Bobby was good, but he knew Jefferson was better. It wasn't that he had more skill or scored more points than Bobby. He had more control. It was ultimately Bobby's lack of control that gained him the deal to play professionally rather than his rival._

_All it took to take Jefferson out of the game was a badly timed tackle. Bobby remembered feeling the rush as he knocked the other player to the ice. He was on a high, adrenaline pumping, caring only about scooping up his prize and sending it to the back of the net. He didn't know how long it took for him to realise that the cheers weren't filling the air as they normally would but when he heard the silence of the crowd the seconds elongated into hours. Jefferson was down and he wasn't getting up. As far as Bobby knew, after the tackle which of course was deemed to be a foul, Jefferson never got on the ice again while they were still in high school. He spent the rest of that winter in traction and according to the rumours had more than one metal rod holding his broken bones together. Bobby didn't think he had ever felt guilty about anything before but, as soon as he saw Jefferson being lifted from the ice on a stretcher, he knew he had destroyed someone's dreams._

_Without speaking, both men picked up their glasses and moved to a quiet table at the far side of the room, each knowing that the conversation they were about to have was for their ears only. _

"_You know Bobby, there was a time when I was just angry with you but with every match you screwed up, I hated you more and more. In the last few years I've realised what a grade-A fuck up you really are. You could have had it all, but you just threw it away."_

"_What can I say, I'm am underachiever," replied Bobby, "Can't you just cut the shit and get to the point? We aren't exactly drinking together 'cause we enjoy the company."_

"_Fine, if you want it that way. I've spent a very interesting afternoon at the hospital. There's a guy in there who was admitted 3 days ago. He woke up from the coma this morning but his jaw is still wired together so he's not said much so far. Turns out that only one hand is broken so he can still just about write. Guess what he wrote when I asked him who did it?"_

"_How the hell would I know? Why you asking me, dude? Haven't you cops got anything better to do than hang round in bars?" Bobby replied, feigning disinterest but knowing exactly what he was talking about. He expected the officer to try to fish for information. He didn't expect Jefferson to hand him a sheet of paper with the name 'Jack Mercer' scrawled upon it. "Hell, a five year old could have written that! If you think that showing me 'proof'' like that is going to get you anywhere you're dumber than you look."_

"_Bobby, you know as well as I do that once this guy starts talking, Jack is going down. He's eighteen now. It's not going to be a case of going to kiddie court and getting his wrist slapped. They'll try him as an adult,"_

"_I know you know who this guy is. He deserved everything he got," Bobby said, realising there was no point in denying all knowledge. Jefferson wouldn't be here if he wasn't on Jack's side. _

_While Jefferson would never be able to forgive Bobby, he understood the Mercer brothers. He hadn't met Bobby until he was in high school but he knew Jeremiah from some of the group homes in Detroit before they were both permanently placed with adoptive parents. He had also met Brian Wentworth, so-called victim of violent crime. "Yeah, I know who he is. I know he hasn't nearly got what he deserves, and part of me is glad that Jack took his revenge, but there isn't anything I can do about it because there's no proof and not enough eye-witnesses willing to speak out against him."_

"_Then why are you even here?"_

"_You've been in and out of jail for the last couple of years. I know you can take care of yourself in there but you and I both know that Jack isn't ready to play with the big boys yet. Right now, you're practically a one man crime wave and if we could pin down all the stuff you actually did , you'd go down for a long stretch. The arresting office would get on the fast track programme." Jefferson explained, "Basically Bobby, I'm offering you a deal."_

"_I'm listening," If there was anyway Bobby could keep Jack out of trouble he would take it._

"_As far as anyone , other than me, knows it was a Mercer that did this but which one is a mystery. The way I see it, sooner or later, you're going to get caught and the shit you're mixed up with is going to cost you a lot more than two years so you take the heat for Jack and we're all winners. I can line up a witness to say that they saw Jack at the scene but that it was you who beat the shit out of Wentworth..."_

_The next morning, squad cars pulled up outside the Mercer residence at 9 am. Bobby was putting on his coat and asking his mother not to worry before the door bell even rang._

_End flashback_

It wasn't often that Angel backed down from an argument but losing Jack made the past all the more painful and it was obvious that Bobby was finding it the hardest of the them all to put their little brother to rest. Neither he nor Jeremiah would ever fully trust Jefferson and he knew that Bobby would never get along with him but, if Bobby wanted to leave the past well alone, there wasn't much he could say.

"Come one, Guys" Said Jeremiah, " I've got a schedule to keep. Camille has signed the girls up for pony riding and I've got to get them there on time.

"Jeez Jerry, I can just se us all at the gymkhana, cheering them both on." Bobby smirked. "Do they even have beer at those things?"

"Probably not, but I'm guessing they've got some high class ladies who wouldn't mind a piece of rough," joked Angel.

They had just about packed away all of their equipment and were about to get in the car when the high pitched shrieking of a middle aged woman reached their ears.

"I don't fucking believe it," Bobby exclaimed as he turned to see Mark dashing down the path, running full pelt and clutching a black leather bag that clearly did not belong to him. If he had the energy left after the game he might have contemplated giving chase but he was done in. Besides, he knew that his brother's hadn't played as enthusiastically as him, "Angel, why don't you GI-Joe this kid so we can put Rachel out of her misery?

Bobby took Angel's mischievous smile as an affirmative. As far as Angel was concerned the kid was easy game. It only took a few steps to his left and an outstretched arm to cause the kid to land on his back.

"Well, if it isn't our little Houdini," Bobby said as he hoisted Mark up by his collar while Jeremiah returned the bag to it's rightful owner.

Mark knew that it wasn't the smartest move he could have made but he'd run out of cash and when the lady got up to put something in the litter bin, the bag she left on the bench was too much of a temptation to ignore. If he hadn't looked over his shoulder to make sure that no one was pursuing him he probably would have been able to dodge Angel and make it out of the park but, one minute he was running in the direction of the exit and the next he had landed on his back. He groaned as he realised that the very pissed off brown eyes glaring down at him belonged to non other than Bobby Mercer.

Mark wasn't sure what he expected to happen next but so far, although things weren't going exactly as he would like, it could have been a lot worse. He didn't know what Jeremiah had said to the lady but she had agreed to not call the police and once her property had been returned to her she had decided to leave the scene of the crime. It seemed as if, now that they had caught him, they weren't sure what to do with him. Mark's suggestion that they let him go was met with the tightening of Bobby's vice like grip and a not so polite request that he shut up.

After listening to a rather surreal conversation involving ponies, gymkhanas, gymnastics and leotards he found himself being shoved into the back seat of Bobby's car. Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting at the dining table of the Mercer house, tucking into a sandwich. When they arrived at the house, Jeremiah had climbed into his own car muttering about having to keep to his schedule and had driven off. Right now, Bobby and Angel were upstairs changing out of their hockey gear and Mark was happily watching Sophia tidy up the living room as he ate. He knew Bobby had called Rachel when they arrived and as soon as the brothers headed upstairs he contemplated doing a swift exit out the back door. He decided to stay where he was when he realised that Bobby would not have left him alone with the Latino woman if she wasn't capable of making him stay put. He had the feeling that if he did try to get past her, he wouldn't get very far.

It wasn't long before the doorbell rang. As Sophia went to answer the door, Mark finished the last of his sandwich, knowing that the conversation Rachel was going to force him to have would not be fun.

"Bobby, its for you." Sophia shouted up the stairs as she let Rachel into the house. As she took in the thirty year olds petite frame and red curls she could see why Camille had been encouraging Bobby to go to the youth centre on Lincoln Avenue. Rachel was far from Bobby's usual type, which in itself was a good thing, but she had a pretty face with an open and honest expression.

"Hey Rachel, didn't expect you to get here so soon," Bobby said as he came down the stairs, t-shirt in hand, clad only in a pair of jeans, hair still wet from the shower. Rachel found her eyes widening as she took in the six pack and pecs. She had never been attracted to overly muscly men, preferring the just toned look, but for some reason she could feel her brain turning to mush. "The kid's through here," Bobby continued, pulling on his top as he lead the way to the dining room. As he walked past her, she just about managed to get a glimpse of the 'No Mercy' tattoo stretching from shoulder blade to shoulder blade before the black cotton descended, spoiling the view.

While Bobby may have been completely oblivious to the stare he got as he walked through the hall, Sophia was well aware of the other woman's momentary loss of composure. "I think I'll go see what Angel's doing and leave you guys to it," she smiled as she headed towards the stairs.

When Rachel saw Mark sitting at the table she wanted to rush forward, pull him into a hug and tell him that she was not angry with him but just glad that he was in one piece. In truth, she was angry with him and pretending that everything was alright would not help. He was old enough to understand how much she cared about him and how much it hurt when he ran away. He had spent enough time in the centre to know that she was on his side and he should be able to trust her. It took all of her self control to just take the chair opposite him as Bobby leaned against the doorframe and say "So kiddo, you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on." Mark replied, crossing his arms defiantly, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Fine. If you don't want to talk to me, maybe you'd prefer to talk to Detective Jefferson. He's been looking for you. Seemed quite keen on speaking with you, in fact. I can just give him a call, let him know you're here." she said, hoping to call his bluff as she reached inside her bag for her mobile phone.

"Rach, don't call him, please." Mark said, miserable expression on his face, looking her in the eye for the first time since she had sat down. "If Leroy finds out that I've talked to the cops he'll go ape shit."

"Who's Leroy?" Bobby asked, as he moved to join them at the table.

"My mother's boyfriend." he replied, tone of voice indicating how reluctant he was to divulge any further information.

"Mark, I can't help you if you don't let me know what's happened," Rachel tried to reason with him, imagination running on over time. If Leroy was involved, it would not be good.

"Have you guys been watching the news lately?" Mark asked, not sure exactly where to begin.

For the past week the news had been reporting the disappearance of Francesca Bennet, daughter of a wealthy congressman from Gross Point. All of the reports painted a picture of a happy twenty-five year old girl from high society. As far as Mark was concerned she was just another junkie. One of the many wastes of space that came to his mother's house when Leroy was holding. Her politician father had been filmed asking for anyone who knew of his daughter's whereabouts to come forward. The appeal made him look like a concerned father but, depending on how you looked at it, he was partly to blame.

Congressman Bennet, had indulged his daughter from a young age. Every thing she had ever asked for had been given to her. Every bad deed was washed over while every good deed was over praised. For a while, he had ignored his daughters addiction. When it became obvious that it was not just a passing phase, he had paid for extended stays in luxury rehabilitation centres, all to no avail. Finally, he had just become tired of funding her habit and had cut off her allowance, leaving her just as addicted as before but with little money to feed that addiction.

Mark explained to Bobby and Rachel that he was one of the last people to see the girl alive. Normally, when Leroy was at home Mark tried to stay out of his way as much as possible. Leroy was unpredictable at best and was quick to anger. Mark's mother was too worried about feeding her own addition to contemplate the effect living with the dealer was having on her son, let alone try to step in and protect the teenager. Mark wouldn't have even gone into the kitchen if hadn't left his backpack in there. He was as quiet as possible while he tried to collect his things but he couldn't help overhearing the conversation taking place between Leroy and Francesca. She already owed Leroy money but was trying to convince him to give her more drugs on credit, promising that she would pay up by the end of the week. Unsurprisingly, Leroy wasn't falling for it and flatly refused to supply anymore until she had paid her outstanding bill.

Mark didn't know whether the girl was desperate for a fix or just dumb. Rather than just walking away she tried to threaten Leroy into giving her the drugs. She told him that she had been approached by a police officer who wanted her to make a statement and then testify against Leroy and that, if Leroy didn't give her what she wanted, she would tell the officer everything she knew about Leroy's operation. She had hardly finished her threat when the gun shot rang out, loud enough to make Mark feel as if his eardrums had burst. One minute she was standing by the kitchen table, the next her lifeless body was slumped on the floor, blood already starting to form a puddle around her. Before Mark could make it to the door, Leroy grabbed him. Mark tried to get away but his struggle only resulted in the larger man delivering some swift punches. Waving a gun in front of Mark's eyes, Leroy promised him that if he breathed a word of what he had seen to the police both Mark and his mother would share the same fate as Francesca. As soon as Leroy let him go, Mark left his mother's house and he had not been back since.

"If Jefferson's looking for me, I'm betting that he was the cop Francesca was talking about," Mark finished, "There's no way I'm talking to him if I can help it."

"Mark, you can't pretend this didn't happen. You have to report it." Rachel knew that Mark had a violent home life but she had never imagined that things were this bad.

"I can't. I told you what he said he would do!"

"They'll arrest him, you'll be safe."

"Yeah, I'll be fine but if the cops go in there to get him, he's crazy enough to just shoot her. He wouldn't even pause to think about what he was doing." Mark explained, "I know she doesn't care about me. Hell, half the time she's too out of it to remember I even exist but she's my mum. I don't want her to get hurt."

"Shit Kid," Bobby spoke up for the first time since Mark started to tell them what happened. "You don't make things simple, do you?" For once, Bobby didn't think that winging it would solve the problem but he had never been one for planning ahead and right now he didn't know what the best cause of action would be.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Rachel wanted a cigarette. She had given up smoking 5 years ago and it had been a long time since she had felt the old familiar craving but she needed something to steady her nerves and it was far too early to be getting out the hard liquor. She settled instead for getting a bit of fresh air and sitting outside of the Mercer residence was slowly having the calming effect that she needed, even if her bottom was starting to go numb from sitting on the cold concrete steps.

She knew that she should be getting back to Lincoln Avenue. Emily had said she could hold the fort but Rachel had only expected to be away for half an hour. She had expect to get here, pick Mark up and drive straight back again. After hearing what had happened, she didn't know what to do for the best and her indecision resulted in her doing nothing other than watch a group of ten year olds play hockey in the street. Mark didn't want to go back to Centre. He was scared that he would run into Chris Jefferson and would be made to talk. If Rachel could have her own way, she would just march right down to the police station, demand to speak to Chris and make sure he went to arrest Leroy straight away but she knew that if she did that, and something happened to Mark's mother, he would never trust her again. The next time he ran away, he would be gone for ever.

She was awoken from her thoughts when Bobby opened the front door and put a jacket over her shoulders before taking a seat next to her.

"You're going to freeze if you sit out here much longer," he said, unsure whether she had been crying or whether it was just the cold making her eyes sparkle. After listening to her plead with Mark to let her call Jefferson and the teenagers stead fast refusal, he didn't really know what advice to offer. Normally, when presented with a problem, he would just burst in, guns blazing and hope that once the dust settled everything would be okay but the events of the past month had taught him that the shoot first and ask questions later approach didn't always work out as he wanted it to.

"Is Mark still in the house?"

"Yeah, he spotted the Xbox and decided to challenge Angel. Right now, he's giving my brother one hell of an ass whooping," Bobby smiled, happy that Angel's undefeated champion title was very swiftly being taken from him. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay." she replied, seeing no point in denying the obvious. "I guess I'm mostly upset and angry. I'm angry at Leroy, I'm angry with myself and I'm even sort of angry with Mark…"

As she trailed off, Bobby found himself and pulling her closer without thinking, wanting to comfort her. She normally seemed so calm and in control. He couldn't imagine her yelling the house down like La Vida Loca would, or throwing plates like a few women he knew, but he had expected her to do something to take charge of the teenager currently sitting in their living room, playing games and acting as if he hadn't just told them that he was the number one witness to a murder. He didn't expect her to look so defeated. The weight of his arm across her back and the way his fingers buried themselves in her curls made her lean into him unconsciously, resting her head on his shoulder, needing to be comforted by him just as much as he wanted to comfort her.

"It's not even Mark that I should be angry with - it's is mother. She's the one who lets a drug-dealing, murdering, bastard into his life," Rachel continued, "But he knows what she's like and the kid just keeps agreeing to go back to her. I should have done more to stop him going back last time but, in the end, it was his choice. He could have told his case worker that he didn't want to go back, that he wanted to stay at the centre, but he didn't. It's like he's got this blind spot when it comes to her, this unconditional love, and it doesn't matter how many times he gets hurt. If I can't get him to see the damage she's doing, I don't know how I'm going to be able to help him."

"You can't push him, Rachel. Not on something like this." he replied, voice husky with emotion as he thought back to his own childhood. "I can still remember my mother. I'm not talking about Evelyn, I mean Diane, my real mother. The last time I saw her I was nine years old. Don't know what happened to her. Hell, she could be dead for all I know. While she was around, it didn't matter what she did, I still loved her. For a while, I was convinced that she would come back but for the six years that I spent in foster care I never heard from her. When I was old enough to realise all the crap she put me through before just abandoning me, well, I wasn't exactly the nicest person to be around. It took Evelyn a lot of hard work and patience to help me sort my life out. Even now, it's not what you'd call a normal, apple pie, all American lifestyle."

"I can't just let him hide from the cops and run around tying to protect her. I have to do something. Christ Bobby, he could have been killed!"

"Just give him a bit of time, let him know you're there for him. He'll see the truth eventually. He's going to realise that you're on his side and he'll come around."

They fell into silence, neither of them moving, as they watched the neighbourhood kids playing in the street. They were both equally hoping that what Bobby had said would be true and not some empty platitude designed to make her fell better for a few moments. She didn't know whether it was the arm around her or the feeling that Bobby had opened up, showing a part of himself that he didn't normally let the outside world see, but for some reason she didn't feel as cold as she had before Bobby joined her.

* * *

When Jeremiah parked his Volvo outside his mother's house, the last thing he expected to see was his older brother sitting on the front steps with his arm around Rachel. He didn't know how long they had been there but they both looked very comfortable, if a little pale from the cold. He couldn't help looking at his wife as he switched off the engine, knowing that she would be wearing a self satisfied smile. For some reason the woman was always right.

"See, I told you." she commented as she helped the girls out of the back of the car. "I knew they'd get on. She'll be a good influence on him. Hopefully, calm him down a bit and keep him out of trouble."

As they approached the house, the sight of Bobby offering Rachel his hand to help her get up made her smile broaden even further but the happiness she felt was short lived. From the way Bobby greeted the girls, all smiles but quickly ushering them into the house so that he could talk with their daddy, Camille knew that something was wrong. While Bobby may have been the oldest Mercer brother, he had always known that Jeremiah was the thinking man of the family. Even on the few times Jeremiah hadn't been able to help him come up with a plan, he had seemed to know the right questions to ask to make Bobby think clearly. After everything that had happened, Bobby didn't want to burden his brother with anything else and the look of worry on Camille's face as he told them what Mark had seen only served to make him feel worse but he needed his Jeremiah's opinion.

"Doesn't anyone watch the news around here except me?"

"The news, Jerry? What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby asked, really not seeing the relevance of the question.

"This morning, while you were shouting the house down trying to get Angel's ass moving, I was watching the news." Jeremiah explained. "This congressman's daughter isn't just a missing person anymore. They've already found and identified her body. The news said that some homeless guy found her in a dumpster late last night and called the cops."

"You're telling me we've been sitting here worrying when this Leroy dude is too dumb to even get rid of the body properly?"

Rachel really did not understand the rye grin on Bobby's face. They knew the girl had been murdered and finding the body didn't alter that fact. She couldn't see how the situation had changed. Mark would still be wanted for questioning. She also didn't like his tone of voice. She knew he was no saint but, from the way he talked, a cynical person would take his words to mean that he did know how to get rid of a body. Before that train of thought got too far she decided to stop it in it's tracks and simply asked "Doesn't that just mean Jefferson will be even more eager to speak with Mark?"

"Maybe," Bobby conceded, "but there'll be a hell of a lot of red tape and paper work keeping him busy first. You see, if Jefferson was trying to get Francesca to squeal on Leroy, when she went missing he would have wanted to find her. Now that they have, Leroy will be his main suspect. Even if they haven't pulled enough evidence off the body to put Leroy down, I bet they'll have made some up and paid him a visit anyway."

"Yeah, a piece of hair with DNA or something like that." Jeremiah said, unable to stop himself giving a slight chuckle

"Too right! Shit, I bet if Leroy is stupid enough to put a dead body in a dumpster, he's stupid enough to fall for an old trick like that. They've probably got him locked up already. Either that or they'll have put a bullet in him."

"But how are we going to find out?" Rachel asked. She knew she couldn't just call Chris and ask him.

"Give me the address. Me and Jerry'll drive round the neighbourhood. We should be able to see if there's any cops hanging around. Maybe we'll even run into Leroy. What do you think the police would say if the Mercer's made a citizen's arrest, Jerry? "

"Oh no you don't, mister!" As far as Camille was concerned , it was time for her to step in. There was no way she was going to let her husband drive round in his brother's car looking for a mad man. Jeremiah might say that he was done with his old life but she knew Bobby had a way of dragging him back into it and, sooner or later, they were both going to get hurt.

Camille just wanted to wait it out, arguing that if a congressman's daughter was murdered and a suspect arrested, the evening news would make a full report. Unfortunately, none of them had realised that Mark had come to the door and was listening in to their every word. As soon as he realised that the police may have already gone to arrest Leroy he started to panic and it took some very quick reflexes on Bobby's part to catch the kid before he started to run to his mother's house. Leroy had told him what he would do if the police came to the house and Mark believed that he would carry out his promise.

After a very heated discussion, it was decided that Bobby and Rachel would go to Mark's mother's house while Jeremiah and Angel made sure that the kid stayed where he was. Bobby would have preferred to go by himself. He'd dodged enough bullets in his time to know that he would be able to take care of himself if the situation mirrored Mark's worst nightmare. However, Rachel insisted on going with him, using the argument that only her and Mark knew what Leroy looked like and both agreed that it would not be safe for Mark to go along.

The car ride over to Fairmont Road where Mark's mother lived was tense, both of them unable to keep up any form of small talk. Bobby didn't really care what happened to Mark's mother. She wasn't exactly doing a good job of looking after him. However, he didn't know what they would be driving into and he wasn't nearly as well armed as he would like. He did contemplate picking up some more weapons before leaving the house but had the feeling that if Rachel saw the arsenal that he and Angel kept hidden around the place, she would run a mile. Rachel's only thoughts were with Mark. She would never be able to understand the loyalty and love he had for a woman who treated him so badly but if she had to go back with bad news, he would be devastated.

As they turned left into Fairmont Road, the police presence was all too obvious. As well as a few squad cars, there were also two Forensic Evidence vans and plenty of police tape blocking off the entrance to the dilapidated two storey that Mark's mother called home. Rather than the hail of flying bullets that Bobby had envisaged, the street had a quite, calm after the storm feel. Whatever had happened, it was clear that they had missed out on the action. Bobby supposed that he should be relieved but, as he pulled up to the curb on the opposite side of the road, he realised that part of him had been itching for a fight.

"Look's like we're too late." He commented, as he watched the police officers milling about outside the house, checking to see if any of the faces were familiar.

"We have to find out what's happened. I can't go back to Mark without being able to tell him anything at all." Rachel said, pausing only when she realised that Detective Jefferson had just left the house. As he walked down the garden path towards the gate, he looked up and their eyes met, neither able to conceal their surprise. "Oh God, it's Chris! He's going to ask me where Mark is and he'll know I'm lying."

"Stay here. I'll go speak to him, find out what's gone on." Bobby said, leaving the car before she could protest.

She watched him cross the road, sure that he'd put a little bit more swagger in his step than normal. As the two men approached each other it was clear that they would both rather be speaking with anyone else. The tension between them was just as evident as it had been when they came face to face in her office.

"Never expected to see you walking towards a crime scene. You're normally running away from them." Jefferson said as Bobby stopped a couple of feet away from him.

"Oh please, you guys will never catch me anywhere near a crime scene and you know it,"

"Why are you here?" he asked, annoyance showing in his voice. In his opinion, Bobby Mercer was nothing but trouble and his investigation had already gone south. He did not need anymore complications.

"We're just looking for Mark. Rachel thought he might have come to see his mother. They around anywhere?" Bobby answered, not wanting to give anything away.

"Haven't seen the kid, but I've got a feeling you and Rachel already know that. Right now, his sorry excuse for a mother is drying out in one of our cells. What's this about Bobby?"

"I told you, we're looking for Mark."

"That's not what I meant. Why are you so suddenly so concerned about Mark when you hardly know the kid? You're not exactly the guardian angel type" Jefferson replied, the scowl forming on Bobby's' face spurring him on. "He's not Jack, Bobby. Look, I know Jack dying the way he did was a shit thing to happen but you got your revenge when you got rid of Sweet. I know you would have done anything for Jack but you can't bring him back and you can't replace him."

"Shut the fuck up, Jefferson. Don't you think I already know that no one can replace him? You've got no right talking about my brother when you don't know shit about what happened!" Bobby could feel his temper starting to rise, his hands turning into fists. "This has got nothing to do with Jack."

"So what's it about then? Rachel? You think she's going to put up with all your bullshit?"

"Why're you worried, Jefferson? You feeling sorry that you forgot to call her?"

"What happened between Rachel and I is none of your business but I can tell you now that you're not going to get anywhere with her. She's going to realise what a loser you are, sooner or later. Hell, you must have been back in Detroit nearly two months now, Bobby. You even start looking for honest work yet or are you still living off the profits from the last job you pulled before you came home?" It was only when he felt the presence of two uniformed officers behind him that Jefferson realised that he and Bobby were standing inches from each other, both with clenched fists and wearing angry expressions. Not only would fighting a civilian in front of the uniforms look extremely bad to his superiors, Jefferson knew that it would only add to the already mountainous pile of paperwork he would have to fill out before his shift could end. Making an effort to reign in his temper and take a step back, Jefferson said "Bobby, I've got more important shit to be doing than stand here and yell at you. I'm in the middle of a murder investigation, in case you hadn't noticed. Tell Rachel that I need to speak to Mark and I'd appreciate it if she could bring him to the station tomorrow morning."

As Bobby started to drive back to the Mercer house, explaining that Mark's mother had been arrested but was in one piece, Rachel sighed in relief. From her vantage point in the car she could tell that the two men had argued and, at one point, she had expected them to start throwing punches. Unfortunately, they had been too far away for her to be able to hear the exchange and it was obvious that Bobby did not want to share. Despite the fact that she would now be able to persuade Mark that it was safe for him to go back to Lincoln Avenue and assure him that, although locked up, his mother would be safe, Bobby seemed just as quiet and tense on the drive back as he had on the way to Fairmont Road.

Mark had not been too happy about the fact that he would still need to make a statement to the police in the morning but he agreed to go home with Rachel easily enough. Rachel wasn't sure what she expected when it came time to say good bye to Bobby. She supposed that she may have come across as some damsel in distress when they were sitting outside the house earlier in the afternoon. If that was the case, he had seemed willing enough to play the part of knight in shining armour for a little while but, now that the crisis was over, he seemed reluctant to move onto the wooing part of the traditional scenario. If anything he had become sullen and withdrawn. As Mark and Rachel, left his only parting words were "See you around."

"What's his problem?" Mark asked, "Why isn't he happy that things are going to be ok?"

"I don't know." she replied truthfully as she looked back at the house through her rear view mirror, half expecting him to still be standing on the path but soon realising that he had gone back into the house and the door was already shut.


	7. Chapter 7

"What the fuck is your problem, Bobby!" Sophie shouted as she headed up the stairs, tears already spilling down her cheeks. Sophia and Bobby had always antagonised each other but it was very rare that their arguments resulted in one of them fleeing the room.

Bobby knew that he was being a jerk but he was in a bad mood and he couldn't help taking it out on those around him. You would think that by now, his family would have gotten used to his ways but the glares he was receiving from Jeremiah and Camilla told him that he had crossed the line and ruined the first official family dinner since he and Angel had moved back into their mother's house. Bobby thought that pointing out the fact the he had avoided using any profanity until his young nieces had been put to bed upstairs would not help the situation so he simply got up from his seat, walked through the kitchen and sat on a cold concrete step for the second time that day. It really wasn't his fault if La Vida Loca had suddenly developed a sensitive streak, he reasoned, trying to convince himself that he hadn't said anything worse than normal but knowing that it was all too easy for him to direct his aggression her way and he had been particularly harsh.

Jeremiah decided that it was about time to collect the girls and take his family back to their own home. Angel and Bobby were quite capable of dealing with their latest domestic disaster. Camille was just as happy to leave. She had no idea what had happened when Bobby and Rachel went to Mark's mother's house but even the girls had been unable to get a smile out of their uncle all evening. After watching Jeremiah and Camille bundle the girls into the car, Angel closed the door behind him and paused for a second, not sure whether to go and console his girlfriend or find out what was going on with Bobby first. The sound of the back door closing as Bobby came back into the house helped him to make up his mind and he moved towards the kitchen where he found Bobby leaning against the kitchen counter, taking a long drink from a bottle of beer.

"So you chilled out yet, dude?" Angel asked as he opened the fridge to get his own bottle of Bud. Getting only a grunt for a reply, he continued "Are you going to tell me what's going on or am I going to have to beat you down for making my girl cry for no reason?"

"Look Angel, nothing's going on. I'm just in a pissed off mood. I didn't mean to upset the girl. Can't you just tell her I'm sorry or something?"

"You could always try telling her you're sorry your damn self for a change!" Angel replied, but quickly changed his mind, "Actually, don't do that. In fact, don't even speak to her again. I'm sure the neighbours are just as fed up of listening to you two shout at each other as I am! And don't give me that 'nothing's going on' shit. Something must have happened to put that scowl on your face."

Bobby could tell that his little brother was determined to get some answers. "It's nothing really. Don't even know why I'm letting it get to me so much. I just ran into Jefferson again this afternoon, that's all."

"I hoped you punched him this time."

"Ang, even I'm not stupid enough to punch a cop while he's on duty and surrounded by his little cop friends."

"Yeah, but I bet you wanted to though"

"Damn right!" Bobby replied, smiling for the first time that evening.

Bobby explained to Angel what Jefferson had said about both Jack and Rachel. As far as his theory of Bobby trying to replace Jack was concerned, Jefferson was way off the mark. Bobby may have teased Jack relentlessly but he had loved him. When he came to live with Evelyn, Jack was more vulnerable than any of her other sons and she had made Bobby, Jeremiah and Angel promise that they would look after and protect him. Bobby knew that the majority of times Jack had gotten into trouble it was his fault and he would always blame himself for the way in which Jack died, believing that he had let both Jack and Evelyn down. There was no way that anyone would ever be able to replace Jack in Bobby's heart. He would always be his baby brother.

When it came to Rachel, Bobby wasn't so sure that Jefferson was wrong. They had only met a few times but Bobby was quite sure that the number of word that passed between them already exceed the amount he shared with the majority of women he ended up in bed with. Quite simply, he liked her and he had the feeling that she might like him too. However, Bobby knew that there was a reason why most of his relationships, the ones that made it past the one night stand stage, were short lived. Most women didn't enjoy worrying about whether their boyfriend was going to get shot or arrested every time they left the house. Bobby still had some money left but he knew it would not last for ever. Jefferson was right when he accused Bobby of living off the profits of the illegal activities he undertook before he came home.

Bobby had promised Jeremiah that he would try to stay out of trouble and, so far, he had turned down his old contacts who approached him with under the table deals but he had not made any effort at finding an honest job either. He would have to work twice as hard when it was honest but anyone who saw the repairs he made on the house would not be able to accuse him of being afraid of a little hard work. Bobby knew the reason why he ended up taking part in dodgy deals and scams was the rush he got from it. He was just as much an adrenaline junkie as extreme sports enthusiasts. As much as he wanted to keep his promise to Jerry, eventually he would be offered something too tempting to turn down. If he started anything with Rachel, she might help him to keep his promise a bit longer but when he broke it, although Jeremiah would eventually forgive him, Rachel would not.

"Jesus Bobby, were you always this pathetic about girls or is it something you've developed in you're old age?" Angel smiled, unable to remember the last time any of his brothers asked him for advice on women. "If you hadn't let Jefferson mess with your head, you would have already made a move on the girl. Just go see her."

"You think?"

"Hell yeah! Besides, I've got to go upstairs and make your apologies for you. It will go a lot smoother if she thinks I've kicked you out in defence of her honour." Angel replied as he headed out of the kitchen, "If Sophia asks, I got at least two good punches in before throwing your ass to the curb, okay?"

"Like that would ever happen!" Bobby smiled as he reach for his coat and keys. Angel was right, he was being pathetic. He just hoped that she wouldn't give him the cold shoulder after the way he had behaved that afternoon.

* * *

As Bobby parked his car outside the youth centre on Lincoln Avenue, the snow started to fall once more. He had the heater running full blast in the car but as he stepped out of the vehicle he realised how cold the night air really was. He had almost changed his mind about coming here. After all, it wasn't exactly polite to make an unannounced visit after 10pm but he had carried on driving. If he got here after the centre had closed or if things didn't go the way he was hoping and she sent him packing, at least he would have been out of the house long enough for Angel to make sure that La Vida Loca would be talking to him again in the morning. With his mind on getting out of the cold and the possibilities that the night held, he didn't notice the unmarked police car or its occupants parked down the street. To say that it's occupants were surprised to see Bobby Mercer making a late night visit to the centre would be an understatement but they did nothing apart from keeping up their vigil.

When Bobby entered the building he paused inside the door way. The last time he had been in the centre it had been full of kids and noise but now it was quiet and the empty hallway gave the building an eerie stillness. The last time Bobby had felt like this was when he had been 17years old and he and Angel had broken into their high school with the intention of stealing the answers to the upcoming exams and then selling them to their classmates. At the time he had been surprised at how uncomfortable he felt in a place where he spent the majority of the day light hours. As he started to walk towards the office, he paused once more to appreciate the art work on the walls. He didn't think that he would ever have described graffiti as art before but Rachel had been right. Although it was still not complete, he could tell that it would look wicked when it was finished.

The last person Rachel expected to walk into her office that night was Bobby Mercer. When she had left his house with Mark that afternoon he had seemed distant, making her think that she had read him completely wrong. She had come the to conclusion that the arm he put around her as they sat watching the kids play in the street was nothing more than a momentary gesture of comfort, with no deeper meaning. Now he was here and she had no idea why. If Emily were still here, the younger woman would be cracking more jokes about booty calls but surely that couldn't be the case, could it?

"Bobby, what brings you down here this time of night?"

"I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd stop by…" he lied, "Where is everyone? I thought this place would be packed."

"The last of the neighbourhood kids left about fifteen minutes ago. Mark and the other kids who are living here are all upstairs." she explained, "Why don't you take a seat for a minute. I've got to go lock up."

She took her time, checking each of the rooms to make sure that there were no more kids straggling behind, picking up the forgotten scarves and gloves, and locking the front doors. She didn't want to presume anything . So far, she still didn't understand Bobby. The man confused her so much she didn't think she would ever know what he was thinking. He had to be here for a reason. Even if she wanted something to happen between them, she didn't know whether he wanted that as well. She wasn't sure that she should allow herself to fall for him. If something did happen, he wasn't exactly good boyfriend material. When the building was secure for the evening and she was sure that all of the rooms were empty, she realised she could delay no longer and decided that she would just play it by ear. When she got back to her office, he was sitting on one of the chairs, worn leather coat draped over the arm, looking relaxed and at home until their eyes met and it was clear that neither of them knew what to say.

"So, how's Mark doing?" Bobby asked to break the ice.

"He's fine. Think he'll actually stick around for a while this time."

"Look, I'm sorry if I was being a jerk this afternoon when you guys left." Bobby said, "In case you haven't realised, Jefferson and I aren't exactly friends but there's enough history for us to be able to push each other's buttons"

"You going to tell me what happened?"

"Nah, it's too long and too complicated a tale. We've known each other since high school. We didn't get along back then and we never will"

"Bobby, it's getting kind of late and it's been a long day.."

"Sorry, I'll go." he said, starting to rise from his seat, not expecting to hear her next words

"Actually, I was going to say that I've got a few beers in the fridge upstairs. Do you fancy a drink?"

For once the centre was relatively empty and all of her emergency placements were quite capable of getting themselves to bed at a reasonable hour. It only took a few minutes to check on Mark and the other two teenagers currently in her care before she could lead Bobby into her apartment. Bobby wasn't sure what he expected of her living quarters but he was pleasantly surprised. The open plan living room/kitchen area would have been well suited to an uptown warehouse loft conversion. There was no indication that the rooms were above a run down drop-in centre and it was clear that this was her sanctuary.

"Nice place," he commented

"Thanks, but I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to hang onto it. Managed to convince the landlord not to sell up and renew our contract but the lease is only good for 6 months so he might change his mind again."

It wasn't long before they were sitting comfortably on her sofa, enjoying the beer and the company. Any awkwardness they might have felt in her office was forgotten. They both relaxed, conversation coming easily to them and finding more common ground than she had thought possible. For Bobby, each smile she gave, each small laugh at his lame jokes, made him all the more glad that he had come to see her. Neither of them knew how long they had been sitting together but both were aware that they had slowly been inching nearer to each other. When he kissed her the timing was perfect and the kiss itself had the right mixture of gentleness and urgent passion to make her realise it was no longer a question of 'if' she fell for him. She had already fallen.


	8. Chapter 8

Bobby didn't know what had woken him up but, as consciousness returned and he remembered where he was, he could not help smiling. As the warm body sleeping next to him also began to stir he reached out. When he ran his hand down Rachel's spine her back arched, body turning towards him, both of their minds focused on the possibility of a repeat performance of the night before. With his hand resting lightly on the curve of her hip and their lips millimetres apart, both wanted to deny the noise they heard coming from the ground floor but the sound of furniture being knocked over in one of the rooms below them was clearly audible in the otherwise still night.

"It's probably one of the neighbourhood kids," Rachel groaned. It wasn't the first time that the centre had had a break-in and, although she was glad that the kids trusted her enough to go there when they were in trouble, she would never understand why they insisted on trying to sneak in rather than just knock the door.

"I'll go check it out," Bobby said, reaching for his jeans, just as frustrated as she was at the interruption.

"Ok, but try not to scare them away. If they need a place to crash we've got plenty of room." She knew that the sight of a very muscly, half dressed stranger would not be the most reassuring thing for whichever teenager had decided to break in but he had already gotten up and it was far too warm in bed for her to leave if she didn't have to. "Try the office first, there are still some windows without security bars in there." she added as he headed out of the door, shadows playing across his back.

As Bobby padded down the stairway in bare feet he wished that he had taken the time to put on more than just his jeans. Although it had been warm under the duvet, it was practically freezing now that he was wandering around in the early morning gloom. He supposed that part of his rush to get down stairs was his eagerness to get this interruption over with as soon as possible. The quicker he sorted this out, the quicker he would be back under the duvet where he and Rachel would be able to continue what they had started. He didn't even know where the light switch was to turn on the overheads but, as far as he could tell in the dim light, there didn't seem to be any sign of movement.

When Bobby entered the office, the temperature dropped noticeably. The trail of broken glass leading away from the window which overlooked the alley at the side of the building indicated the point of entry for whoever had broken in but there was no one in sight. Snow was already starting to blow in through the broken pane but without going to get some shoes, he would be unable to patch up the window or clean up the mess. Bobby was still trying to remember the lay out of the rooms on the ground floor and decide where he should look next when he heard another bumping of furniture followed closely by heavy footsteps, a shriek of alarm and a gun shot.

He moved quickly over to his jacket, still resting over the arm of the chair that he had occupied earlier that evening, but as soon as he lifted it he knew that it was lighter than normal. He didn't need to check the inside pocket to know that the familiar weight of his gun was missing but Bobby knew he had it when he left the house. It seemed as if the person who broke in also had light fingers. Bobby could only hope that the gun went off by accident and that no one was seriously hurt but he would only have a few minutes to find out before Rachel came down stairs to investigate. Even if she had managed to drop back off to sleep in the few minutes since he left her, there was no way any of the building's inhabitants could still be sleeping.

Although the shot echoed around the hallway, it seemed as if it originated from the pool room. Armed or not, Bobby knew that he would have to find out what had happened. As he inched down the hallway, staying to the shadows, he imagined all number of scenarios but none came close to the vision before him when he entered the pool room. The dim early morning light only served to make Mark look even more pale than he was, still clutching the gun with hands that shook noticeably, wide eyed gaze fixed on the 30-something male sprawled over one of the pool tables. While Bobby had seen many gunshot victims and had been the finger behind the trigger on more than a few occasions, it was clear that Mark had never used a gun before in his life and had never been the cause of another person's death.

"Hey kid, why don't you put that thing down before it goes off again?" Bobby said in a way that he hoped was calm and soothing. As the teenagers gaze flew towards Bobby, muzzle of the gun moving in the same direction, Bobby was sure that he had made the biggest mistake of his life by speaking. Mark's eyes went even wider as if he had just realised what he had done and Bobby found it hard to contain his relief when the gun clattered to the floor by the boys feet.

"Leroy…" Mark, replied, voice hardly above a whisper, as if the name would explain everything. A few second of silence passed but before Bobby could speak again, Mark continued, breathing too fast, voice louder but now close to hysterics, "I couldn't sleep so I came down stairs. I was only looking at it. I was going to put it back, honest. He broke in and I thought he was going to get me like he got Francesca. I….I shot him. Oh God, I think I killed him. Did I kill him? Is he dead Bobby?"

Bobby had once thought that the fifteen year old had a hard, lean edge to him. He thought that, despite being used as a punching bag by bigger, older guys, Mark still had balls and attitude. He watched the young boys face crumple into desperate sobs as the shock took hold and he realised that for all his attitude, Mark was still just a child. Bobby had thought that the kid reminded him of himself but, in fact, he was nothing like Bobby at all. If Bobby had been in his shoes, he would have shot to kill and made sure that the aim was true, never shedding a tear. The last time Bobby had felt like this was almost five years ago when Jack came to him, hands bruised and bloody, words hardly coherent. It took Bobby all of his strength not to go and find Wentworth and finish the job that Jack had started but he had stayed with his brother, calming him, reassuring him and ultimately protecting him.

"Yeah, he's dead, Mark" Bobby said while he reached for the gun, clicking on the safety, fingers unconsciously working as if to replace Mark's finger prints with his own. For a few seconds, the world outside the pool room ceased to exist and all thought of Rachel and the other teenagers upstairs disappeared. "It's going to be okay, kid. Only you and me know about this so far. We can sort it out, you're going to be ok. Everything is going to be fine."

"I think it's a bit too late for that, don't you?" Jefferson's tall frame filled the doorway, his own gun drawn, eyebrows raised. "I thought you said I was never going to catch you at a crime scene, Mercer?"


	9. Chapter 9

When Bobby raised the gun, aiming at Jefferson as he stepped into the room, it was an unconscious reflex. Bobby had never shot anyone who he didn't believe were getting what they deserved and shooting Jefferson was the furthest thing from his mind but the defensive stance he assumed seemed like second nature. At any other time, he would have found Rachel's appearance in the doorway humorous. The sight of the redhead, clad in a fluffy pink bath robe, clutching a baseball bat was definitely not what he would have expected in response to the sound of a gunshot but from the expression on her face he knew that she was running on blind panic. It was only when her eyes met his, the look of longing that they had held minutes earlier now replaced by a look of fear, that he was able to force his body to relax. Noticing the change in his posture, Jefferson knew that this was the time to step in and take control.

"Put the gun down, Bobby and take a step back. You too, Mark." he said as he advanced further into the room, his own gun still drawn. "Come on, Bobby. You know you don't want to do this."

Jefferson kept his weapon aimed at Bobby as he placed his gun on the pool table and stepped back slowly knowing that the only other option he had for resolving the standoff was not one he wanted to take. Rachel was having problems processing the sight in front of her but Bobby's movement was enough to release her from the paralysis she felt and she immediately ran to Mark's side, baseball bat forgotten as it fell to the floor. She clutched the obviously distraught teenager, trying to avert his eyes and move him further away from the lifeless body before them. Had she been looking at Bobby as she pulled the teenager away, she might have noticed the glimmer of resignation in Bobby's eyes but her complete attention was on Mark, on her need to protect him. In Bobby's mind, Leroy was now just a rather unpleasant inanimate object, no longer a threat to anyone, and when Rachel dragged Mark away she was not protecting the kid from the violent drug dealer - She was protecting Mark from the violent man she now saw in him.

"I take it the gun belongs to you?" Jefferson asked, relaxing his own stance but not lowering his gun completely.

"More or less" Bobby replied, leaning back on the unoccupied pool table behind him, crossing his arms and trying to project the best 'do I look like I care' attitude he could under the circumstances.

"You got a license for it?"

"That's the less part. So, you going to get this over with and arrest me or what?" Bobby was sure that when Jefferson entered the room he would have seen the gun in Bobby's hands, seen Leroy's body on the table, and come the easiest conclusion. The Detroit police may not have ever arrested Bobby for murder before but that was down to some quick moves on Bobby's part, lack of evidence or just plain luck. It didn't change the fact that they knew what was what, even if they couldn't prove it. "Come on, Jefferson. I bet you've been itching to bust my ass since I got back to town. Looks like you've got your chance."

"No, you can't…" Mark shouted, pulling away from Rachel's arms, but unable to say anything else before Bobby interrupted

"Shut up, Kid. Rachel, get him out of here."

It was something in his tone of voice rather than the words he spoke that made Rachel look at Bobby. He wasn't looking at either her or Mark but holding the police officers gaze. She knew each man intimately but it was as if they were both strangers to her. They stood unblinking, each working through their own internal struggle and wordlessly communicating on a level she would never be able to grasp. She didn't like Leroy. She might even go so far as to say that she hated him for the way that he had treated Mark and his mother, and the way in which he had lived his life but Leroy was dead. Shooting someone, killing them, had consequences. While she wanted to deny that fact that she had seen the gun in Bobby's hands, part of her was already looking to Detective Jefferson to start the police procedure. She didn't know which of them were more surprised when Jefferson holstered his gun.

"Christ Bobby, you're still a grade-a fuck up even after all this time. You think I'm going to arrest you for something you didn't do?"

"Hasn't stopped you before" Bobby replied, neither of them breaking eye contact.

"Like I said yesterday, you can't replace Jack. We're not exactly repeating history here." Jefferson knew that going down this line of reasoning would only antagonise the situation but time was running out. His partner was outside waiting for the back up and they probably had five minutes at most before they arrived. "I saw you in the office, Bobby. That was after the gun shot. I climbed in the window, just like this waste of space, and followed you in here. I heard everything that you and Mark said."

"He's just a kid, Jefferson. He didn't know what he was doing."

"That's the same excuse you used for Jack but Jack wasn't a kid. In the eyes of the law he was an adult. Mark isn't. Leroy is already wanted for murder and we have enough evidence from Mark's mother to prove that he had threatened the kid in the past." Jefferson explained, "I think I'll be able to get him off on self defence. No one needs to go down for this"

As she listened to their conversation, hand still on the teenagers arm, the sinking realisation of exactly what they were talking about made it seem as if their voices were far away. She turned Mark towards her, reaching out with her hand to lift his chin, forcing him to look her in the face. "Mark, did you do this?" she asked, her voice stopping the other conversation as if Bobby and Jefferson suddenly realised they were not alone in the room.

The look in his still moist eyes told her everything she needed to know while the look of pure disappointment in hers, a look he thought she would never give him, caused Mark to find his voice once again. "I'm sorry. He broke in, he wanted me to go back to the house to get some of his things because the cops were watching the place, but I said no. I thought he was going to hurt me but I didn't mean to shoot him. The gun just went off."

"Kid, I don't know if that is one hundred percent truth or not, I don't particularly care." Jefferson said as the sound of sirens reached their ears, "But, if you want to stay out of juvenile hall, that's the story you're sticking too.

"What about the gun?" Bobby asked

"Leroy brought it with him. You got that Mark? He put it down on the pool table after threatening you with it and you picked it up. You want to do the honours with the prints, Bobby?" Jefferson replied, gesturing to the gun and Leroy's hands.

Although Bobby didn't like the plan, knowing that in his state the cops would be able to pull Mark's story apart if they decided to push him, but he recognised that it was the best option. Even if Mark slipped up when it came to the gun, a few months for possession of an illegal firearm was a hell of a lot better than being banged up for murder.

"Rachel, you still with us?" Jefferson asked, making Bobby look in her direction and take in her pale, strained expression.

The slow nod, Jefferson got in reply made Bobby move towards her, asking "Rachel, are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine" she snapped, simultaneously moving backwards, maintaining the distance between them.

Any further conversation was prevented by the increased police presence as the back-up arrived.

* * *

Rachel didn't know how long she had been standing in the hallway outside the pool room. She had given her statement to a uniformed police officer, an eager young woman who looked hardly old enough to be out of training and wrote down every word she said, and since then time had seemed to expand. When it came to her statement she stuck to the truth as much as possible, explaining what she had heard from upstairs, keeping her description of what she saw in the pool room as vague as possible and asserting that Mark had acted in self defence but the words sounded hollow to her own ears. She felt as if her mouth was moving but the voice was being provided by someone else. Mark was further down the corridor giving a statement of his own, Jefferson hovering near him. The boy looked pale still and kept glancing her way as if to assure himself that he had not been abandoned by her. She couldn't hear what he was saying but the calm, professional appearance that Jefferson projected made her think that Mark was holding his own for the time being.

Bobby was closer to her, leaning against the opposite wall a few paces to her right, goose bumps on his arms and chest clearly visible. He had also given a statement and was now trading insults with the passing officers as they went about their jobs. She was sure that the cops would be glad to get rid of his loud mouth for a few minutes while he went to get his sweater from upstairs but he stayed where he was, not requesting that they let him go. When she looked at him she was torn between wanting to be comforted by him and wanting to run as far away as possible. Her head was filled with the alternating images of the Bobby who had held her so gently in his strong arms and the Bobby that had held a gun pointed at her and Jefferson. She knew that he was not the one who had used the weapon but it did belong to him and the sight of him standing, fingers gripped around the trigger, eyes cold, made her think that she had been wrong to dismiss the stories she heard about him as exaggeration. Could she really have been so wrong about him to let herself fall for him? Although she had not understood every aspect of his conversation with Jefferson, it had been clear that he would have let the detective arrest him for Mark's actions. Why would he try to protect the boy when he knew what the sentence would be if he were found guilty of murder? Why was he carrying a gun in the first place? Was she even cable of thinking of Mark's part in all of this yet?

The whirl of questions in her mind ceased as the door to the pool room opened and the police coroner wheeled out the black body bag. The stretcher rolling past her seemed to have the effect of speeding up time again to it's normal rhythm and she realised that Jefferson was standing in front of her, trying to say something to her.

"What?"

"Come on, Rach. Don't space out on me." Jefferson said in a low voice, making sure that none of his colleagues were able to hear, before repeating himself. "I've just spoken to the Chief. My report isn't going to be good enough. They want everything to be by the book. Leroy was the only suspect in Francesca's death and they want to make sure her father doesn't have any cause to complain. You have to go get dressed and come down to the station with Mark. They want an official recorded statement from the kid."

"Now? Can't it wait until this afternoon?" she asked, hoping that he would allow them a brief reprieve. "I've got to make sure the kids upstairs are ok and Mark looks like he could do with a break "

"I can't stall them. An officer will stay with the other kids until Emily arrives. You need to be there as his guardian or the he'll fall apart."

"Come on, Rachel." Bobby said, taking her hand and leading her towards the stairs before she had time to react to the contact.

He didn't know if she allowed him to keep hold of her because she wanted him to or because she knew that pulling away would look odd to the police officers who watched them. He hoped for the first option but feared it was the second. He knew that he had scared her and he didn't know if he would ever be able to make her trust him again. When the door to her apartment closed behind them he released her, not wanting to see whether she would jerk away from him or not, and went to the bedroom to find his clothes. She followed, needing to find her own outfit to replace the bath robe that she had been wearing, but only pulled the robe tighter around herself, suddenly self conscious in front the man who had shared her bed the night before.

"I'll let you get changed," Bobby said, collecting his things and moving towards the door as she opened her wardrobe, stopping as he heard the quiet sob that escaped her. He moved towards her slowly until they were standing inches apart. He reached out, moving her hair away from her face with the back of his hand and for a second she leaned into him as his hand cupped her cheek, giving him a glimmer of hope. All too soon she turned her head, pushing him away.

"Stop, Bobby" She said, as she moved away. "I need you to back off and give me some space"

"It's going to be okay, Rachel…" He replied, only to be interrupted

"How? How is this going to be okay? Mark just shot someone and it's your fault!" She accused, "How could you bring a gun here? Into my home? I do my best to keep the kids away from this and you bring it right here!"

"Keep your voice down!" he hissed, harsher than he intended. "You can't lay this on me. If the kid hadn't being playing pickpocket, he wouldn't have had the gun in the first place. God knows what Leroy would have done to him if he hadn't pulled the trigger!"

"We woke up when Leroy broke in! Nothing would have happened! Leroy would be in police custody and Mark would be tucked up in bed instead of having to make statements and go to the station."

"Yeah, well shit happens"

"Shit happens? That's your excuse? We both know why you came here last night. Christ, you even got what you wanted! Why would you come here armed? Why did you bring a gun with you?"

"Rachel, I don't know what kind of sugar coated spin Evelyn put on our family life but this is Detroit" Bobby sighed, trying to keep his voice low and stop the argument from exploding beyond the confines of her apartment. "I was involved in some pretty heavy shit before I left town and since I've been back I've pissed off a few people as well. People hold grudges. The day I leave home without a gun is probably going to be the day I end up dead. I'm not going to lie and say I've never pulled the trigger but that is not the issue here. There's a scared kid down stairs who needs you so you've go to pull it together and be there for him"

"Of course I'm going to be there for him! He's just a kid. He didn't know what he was doing" she said, throwing his own words back at him as she wiped her eyes. "Please just leave so I can get dressed and go back to him."

Although Bobby wanted to stay with her, he knew that too much damage had already been done. Without saying anything else he retreated from the room, pausing to pull on his sweater and his shoes before heading back down the stairs. As he descended he saw a police officer walk down the corridor clutching a clear plastic evidence bag containing his gun and he vaguely wondered whether any ballistics reports would be done. If they went to any great lengths at testing the gun, Jefferson may have more red tape than he was expecting. Jefferson met him at the bottom of the stairs with Mark standing at his side.

"She'll be down in a minute," he said before asking, "So, you need me to come to the station as well?"

"No. Mark's statement should be enough to keep them happy. If I were you, I'd get going before anyone starts to query what a Mercer was doing here. If I need an official statement from you, I know where to find you." Jefferson replied, adding "Just 'cause I didn't arrest you this time, doesn't mean I wont. I find out you're guilty of something, even if it's a minor offence, you're going down."

"Yeah, whatever," He said, heading towards the exit, "See you around, kid. Don't let them give you no shit down at the station."

As he climbed into his car he felt like pounding the steering wheel to get rid of his pent up aggression but he just put the car into gear and started to drive home. It was as if he was driving on auto-pilot because, without any noticeable passage of time, he was pulling up outside his mother's house. He knew that Jefferson would look after Mark and Rachel, making sure that he was present at any official statements but Bobby wanted to be there too. He wanted to protect them both but doubted that Rachel would ever let him near either of them again. As he climbed the stairs to his room, he resigned himself to the fact that he had screwed up royally once again.


	10. Chapter 10

"You want your usual?" Johnny-G asked as Bobby leant on the bar.

"Yeah" Bobby replied, scanning the room for the man he had come here to meet. "Eddie Fisher been in yet?"

"Not so far" The barman replied as he put Bobby's drink down in front of him, "but if you're looking for a drinking partner, your little underage friend has come back."

It had been two weeks since he had left the centre on Lincoln Avenue and he had not seen Rachel or Mark since. He wasn't sure how he failed to notice Mark occupying the same table in the corner that he had selected the last time he came to the pub but he had not been expecting the see him again at all. "You served him again?"

"He was asking if you were here. I had a feeling you'd turn up and what better way to make him stay put?" Johnny-G shrugged, "besides.."

"Yeah I know, 'Business is slow'." Bobby finished for him, "You'd best call Rachel to come and get him while I find out what the hell he's doing here."

The last time Mark had been in the bar he had been sporting a black eye and as Bobby sat opposite him he found himself looking for any sign of new injury. The fact that the kid looked to be in one piece made him wonder even more why he had come to Johnny-G's place. "What's going on Mark?" he asked, not satisfied by the shrug he got in reply. "Are you still living at the centre or are you back with your Mother? Come on, Kid, talk to me."

"I'm still at the centre. My mum's in prison" Mark said, raising his eyes from the table and looking at Bobby for the first time since he had joined him.

"Look, I'm sorry about your mum but you're better off at the centre. In fact, you should be there right now. I've told Johnny-G to call Rachel and ask her to pick you up so if I were you I'd finish that pint before she gets here."

"Great!" he relied sarcastically, "I would have gone back on my own. You didn't need to call her. You're just giving her another reason to be mad at me"

"I'm sure she's not mad at you.."

"How would you know? You haven't been back!"

For a minute Bobby didn't know what to say. Rachel had made it clear that she blamed him for what had happened. He had wanted to call her to make sure that everything had been okay at the police station but he didn't think she would want to talk to him and the longer he left it, the harder it was to pick up the phone. After a week, he had still not called her and the fact that she had not contacted him made him sure that this was how she wanted things to be. As the second week passed he became more convinced that she didn't want anything to do with him. Whatever they had started that night in her apartment was well and truly over.

"I'm not exactly Rachel's favourite person right now," He sighed. "She's not mad at you, Mark. She's mad at me."

"But you weren't the one that shot him. Ever since, she just keeps watching me. She's always on my case about where I'm going and what I'm doing."

"You're being really dumb, Kid" Bobby said, unable to suppress a wry grin, "She's not mad at you. She's just worried about you. Things will calm down after a while and everything will get back to normal."

"You think?" Mark asked but Bobby's response was halted when a tall man walked over to their table. Taking in his rough appearance, Mark recognised the man for what he was - a petty criminal and thug. If Mark had been sitting alone he would have been very wary of the stranger but Bobby didn't appear to be fazed.

"Yo Mercer, are we doing business or what?"

"You're late, Eddie. As you can see, I'm in the middle of something." Bobby replied, irritation showing in his voice.

"So get rid of the kid and lets talk. This fucking deal isn't going to be on the table forever, man" Eddie said, the smile on his face fading as Bobby stood up, eyes narrowing.

"Don't go acting like you're doing me a favour. I seem to remember you asking for this little meeting 'cause you need my help. I haven't agreed to shit yet. Why don't you take your scrawny ass to an empty table and work on your sales pitch. I'll find you when I'm good and ready." Bobby said, certain that the other man would know that he was serious.

As he sat down, his features soften again and he immediately regretted the way he had spoken. It was easy to forget how impressionable teenagers could be but the admiration he saw in Mark's gaze was clear.

"Wow, how do you do that?" the teenager asked

"Do what?"

"Make him back off, make him respect you." Mark explained, "No one ever does what I tell them too."

"Shit kid, that's not respect. That's fear and there's a big difference. Hell, he's got about as much respect for me as you did for Leroy and we both know how that turned out." Bobby replied, "Look Mark, you seem like an ok kid but that's not going to last if you keep hanging around in dives like this. Jefferson's not always going to be there to hold your hand when the shit hits the fan. Rachel's doing her best to try to keep you safe so you've got to go easy on her and stop running off. You should be glad that you've got someone like her watching your back."

"Sounds like good advice," Rachel said, making her presence known. "The car's outside, Mark. Why don't you go on out and give me a minute to talk to Bobby?"

She expected an argument but he took the keys she held out and left them alone. She slipped into his now empty seat and looked at Bobby. He looked just as at home in the pub as he had the first time she had been here. Part of her had hoped that he would call her while another never wanted to speak to him again after what had happened and the sight of him fitting in with the surrounding so well made her realise that she would never be fully comfortable in his world.

"How have you been?" He asked, adding "You look good."

"I'm ok. The police are happy with Mark's statement so everything is going to be fine." she replied as she reached into her coat pocket for the blue rosary beads that he had left in her room. When she first saw the beads, she had thought it an odd piece of jewellery for Bobby to wear but somehow it suited him. For the past two weeks the beads had been sitting on her dressing table, reminding of her on a daily basis of their owner. "I just wanted to say thanks for keeping Mark here until I arrived and I wanted to give this back to you."

"Thanks" he said as he reached for them, their fingers briefly touching before she pulled away. "Rachel, I am sorry about what happened."

"Yeah, me too." She said as she rose from the seat. "I guess I'll see you around, Bobby."

Bobby watched her leave as he drained the last of his pint. When the door closed behind her he got up to get a refill. Johnny-G couldn't help but notice that Bobby was quieter than normal but he didn't comment. Part of being a good barman was knowing when the patrons wanted to chat and when they didn't. He was sure that Bobby would be back on form, trading insult with the rest of the regulars in no time but until then, he knew enough to keep his nose out.

Brimming pint glass now in hand, Bobby went to join Eddie wondering exactly what kind of deal the other man was offering and whether it would be something he would accept or turn down. "So Eddie," he said as he took a seat "Start talking…."

A/N - thanks for reading. Any thoughts/comments/constructive criticism will be gratefully accepted. LJx


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